


Song and Dance

by story_strudel



Series: My favorite crackship [4]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Dissociation, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Medical, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Poisoning, Psychological Trauma, References to Drugs, Reno (Compilation of FFVII)-centric, Smoking, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy, Turk typical violence, Vomiting, awkwardly supportive turks, gentle dom Reeve (or is he just polite?), not Reno/Rude but they're still unhealthy levels of co-dependent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:15:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27766603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/story_strudel/pseuds/story_strudel
Summary: With a sigh, Elena tips her chair back and stares solemnly at the pine knots in the ceiling. “It’s been a while since we had to do wet work,” she says. “I thought that was behind us.”New Shinra, new Turks. Or so they’ve hoped.As she speaks, Reno feels his stomach cramp. He’s been turning an idea over in his head. It’s an alternative he’s pretty sure Tseng won’t go for, but it could be worth a shot. “Been thinkin’,” he says. “There might be a way around this.”...Betrayed by one of their own, the Turks try a novel approach.
Relationships: Reno & Rude (Compilation of FFVII), Reno/Reeve Tuesti
Series: My favorite crackship [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806301
Comments: 45
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This whole series was supposed to be a comedy, but something went wrong. I have some extremely fluffy side stories waiting in the wings, though, so please don’t judge too harshly.
> 
> Also, thank you for your kind words and encouragement. It warms my heart to see this crack pairing I adore get so much love.

_..._

_Cats are fucking expensive,_ Reno thinks as he browses the kitty litter aisle of his local pet store. A large bag costs 60 gil, and the organic shit Reeve buys is even more. He caught Fleabag drinking out of the toilet just that morning, though. If she wants the fancy stuff, she's got to clean up her act.

Loading the litter into his shopping basket, Reno picks up a few more items and makes his way to the checkout. As he waits in line, he plays a game on his PHS and engages in one of his new favorite pastimes - mentally listing the things he likes about Reeve.

They’ve only been dating officially for about a month, but his list is already pretty long:

  * Good body
  * Good hair
  * Smart
  * Agrees with Reno’s reality TV opinions
  * Cooks



Reno tells the clerk he doesn’t have a points card, says that no, he doesn’t want one, and pays for his items. Then he returns to his apartment building and drags a small fortune’s worth of pet products up the stairs.

On the way, he adds to his list.

  * Smells nice
  * Is nice
  * Secretly sarcastic
  * Secretly hung
  * Expresses zero thoughts about how long it takes Reno to style his hair



“I’m back,” he calls when he enters his flat. As usual, Fleabag runs over and tries to escape through the front door. Also as usual, Reno blocks her with his foot. He dumps the shit he bought in a pile next to the shoe rack and psyches himself up to do two months' worth of laundry. 

In his defense, he hasn’t had a full day off in a while.

As he sorts everything by color and throws what needs to be dry-cleaned to the back of the closet to deal with later, Reno wonders, not for the first time, how the hell he and Reeve even happened.

_“I really like you. You know that, right?”_

Those aren’t words Reno ever expected to hear from anyone. Just remembering them makes him queasy. 

He starts the washing machine and then moves the coffee table out of the way so he can spread out his yoga mat. He changes into an old tank-top and shorts, and then, because it’s getting into autumn and he’s too cheap to turn on the heat, he pulls on the sweatshirt Reeve gave him. The garment is faded and frayed. It doesn’t smell like Reeve anymore, but that doesn’t matter because a perk of being in a committed relationship is that Reno can smell the guy pretty much whenever he wants.

Yet another perk, Reno thinks as he starts to stretch, is all the sex they’ve been having. It took Reeve a long time to warm up to the idea, but once he did...well, he’s sure taken to it. 

Reno is experienced, as Reeve put it, but this whole thing is actually sort of new for him. Not the sex part - that’s been mostly your standard, vanilla fare - but the fact that he’s having sex with the same person on the regular. Reno's not sure what he was expecting, but he finds the familiarity kind of...comfortable is maybe the right word. Anyway, he doesn’t hate it.

After stretching, Reno does a quick core workout, cycles the first load of laundry into the dryer, and returns to the yoga mat to dutifully complete the physical therapy exercises for his arm. By now, the scar’s faded to a pale silver. Usually, the Shinra doctors are able to get it so he doesn’t scar at all.

Reno finishes his workout and answers a text from Elena. It’s getting dark, but he waits to turn the lights on so that he can see the sunset better. They’re not quite as brilliant red as they used to be. With Edge and New Midgar relying on green energy, the sky’s mellowed to pink and lemon yellow.

He ignores the sudden craving for a cigarette.

Craving curbed, Reno feeds the cat and orders a bunch of takeout from the noodle place across the street. He goes for his usual with a side of pan-fried dumplings and a couple of those savory pancake things with chives in them. He’s been trying to eat more to make up the weight he lost in the hospital. 

As most things tend to do these days, thinking about food brings him back to Reeve. For being such a genius, he’s really fucking dumb sometimes. Ever since they got back from Costa del Sol, he’s been on this exercise and clean eating kick that Reno finds personally offensive.

But Reeve did not appreciate when Reno said he likes him a little soft around the middle, so he's made a habit of keeping that and similar opinions to himself. 

As he eats, Reno flicks on the TV and watches a game show. He calls Rude to see if he’s off duty and wants to come over, but he doesn’t pick up. Maybe the big guy’s on a date.

Reno starts another load of laundry and then stands in front of the humming washing machine, lost in thought. 

When Reeve said he wanted to be “exclusive”, it sure seems he meant it. They’ve been seeing a lot more of each other - cute little dinner dates and long drives outside the city. Once, Reno even lured Reeve into a barcade with all these old timey pinball machines he likes. 

It’s not just the dates though. With Reno’s bemused consent, Reeve has been so...open about their relationship. Introducing him to his family was admittedly a fluke, but now Reeve’s gone so far as to report their relationship to HR. Reno probably shouldn’t find that as romantic as he does, but it’s just...it’s kind of sweet, right? 

Reno transfers a clean load of clothes into a laundry basket. Intent on ruining his life like usual, Fleabag jumps into the basket and curls up on Reno’s shirts, which are still warm from the dryer. He huffs at her for getting hair all over but doesn’t bother to dislodge her.

On quiet days like this, Reno sometimes ends up thinking more than he would like. He gets stuck in the past, mostly. Not often the most pleasant experience, but it’s something he can’t help. Lately, though, he’s been more forward thinking. Reno thinks about the rookies’ upcoming evaluation and how they’re doing pretty well. He thinks about how he’s gotta visit R&D on Monday to ask about the modifications on his mag rod and how he wants to let Tseng know about this new vegetable smoothie place near the office because he’s the kind of weirdo who’d be into that.

He also thinks about the next time he’ll get to see Reeve, who’s due back from a business trip in a few days. Speaking of, by now he should have returned to his hotel. 

Reno’s PHS starts buzzing. Glancing at the caller ID, he smiles.

...

“Hey,” Rude says to him a few days later while Reno’s pretending to answer emails. “You got a second?”

Relieved, Reno closes his laptop. “Yeah?”

“Not here. Terrace.” 

When they reach the terrace on the twenty-second floor, Reno scares away a couple of Marketing stooges and turns to his partner. “Spit it out, yo. Ain’t like you to be so dramatic.”

Turning to gaze at the city stretching gray and bustling below them - or maybe at something else entirely because who can tell when Rude’s always wearing shades - he speaks. “Did some snooping after that cartel bust went south. Seems Conor’s sniper rifle jammed.”

Well that explains why the rookie was so slow to cover Reno on the night he hurt his arm. “That don’t make sense,” he says, shaking his head. “The kid’s real particular about his equipment.”

“I know.”

“So, what’re you sayin’?”

Rude removes his sunglasses and examines them for smudges. “It was tampered with during transport.”

Reno’s blood runs cold.

Rude turns to him, expression grave. “Before the mission, someone messed with the security software in the weapons garage and deleted three minutes from the surveillance feed. IT couldn’t recover it, but they noticed something strange. A few days before the mission, someone accessed their systems and downloaded the override code for the cameras.”

“Would need pretty high security clearance to pull that off.”

Rude nods. “Or know someone who does.”

Digging through his pockets, Reno pulls out a pack of cigarettes. “Ain’t one of the rookies’ dads a Shinra exec?” he asks, though he already knows the answer.

“Thad’s father. Department of Data Security, as it so happens.” As he speaks, Rude shifts to shelter Reno from the wind, making it easier to light his cigarette. “You know what this means.”

Reno ignores the slight tremor in his hands and focusing instead on the poison burning in his chest. “Yeah,” he says as he exhales a cloud of smoke. “Of course I do.”

...

During target practice later that day, Reno pretends to listen as the gun locker attendant blab about their brat’s 3rd grade graduation, all the while eavesdropping on Thad, who is showing off for some infantry recruits.

“Go for the kneecap,” he says, pausing to demonstrate on one of the person-shaped targets. “It debilitates without killing the mark. Hurts like hell, too.”

Charming. 

Not that Reno’s one to talk.

He bends down to inspect a blurry PHS photo of a cherubic child with something sticky on his chin. “Cute kid,” he tells the attendant, watching out of the corner of his eye as Thad shows off a few more well-placed shots.

“He got an award,” the attendant gushes. “Most creative in the class.” 

“That so?” Reno didn’t know awards were a thing schools did. “How do they work that out?”

As the attendant explains the creativity assessment rubric at their kid’s fancy private school, Thad lowers his gun and basks in his companions’ praise.

“Good shot, man!”

“Guess you really gotta be the best to make it in Administrative Research.”

Thad shrugs with the same practiced nonchalance that Reno used to affect - and sometimes still affects - when he was still young and had everything to prove. “You’d think so, but their standards could use some work,” he says, casting a contemptuous glance at Neysa and Conor, who are literally bothering no one and doing just what Reno told them to.

“Too bad you ain’t in charge,” one of the infantry recruits replies, leaning in conspiratorially but still talking way too fucking loud. “If you were, you'd be able to get rid of the dead weight. 

Thad reloads his gun and adjusts his headphones. “Who knows? One of these days, I might get the chance.”

…

Reno’s mood remains bleak for the rest of the afternoon, but at least he has a date night with Reeve to look forward to. 

He's held up at work because of a last-minute bomb threat, and by the time he arrives at Reeve’s place, the other has already changed out of his suit. He therefore greets Reno at the door clad unironically in a matching pajama set.

It’s the cutest shit Reno has ever seen.

“Do you like tahini?” Reeve asks as he ushers him inside and disappears into the kitchen. 

“Sounds good,” he replies, not knowing what tahini is and still wrestling with the overwhelming violence of his affection. Leaving the kitchen, he wanders into the living room to join Frank on the couch. Reno isn’t the artistic type, but he thinks Reeve’s house looks really nice. With its airy, well-lit rooms, plush carpets, and elegantly sloped ceilings, the place strikes a balance between comfortable, classy, and sort of...whimsical, maybe...that suits perfectly the person living in it. 

“Okay,” Reeve says as he emerges from the kitchen carrying two beers, a large bag of pretzels, and a container of some store-bought dip. “I’m trying out a new brand of hummus. Let me know your thoughts.”

“My thoughts are you look good in plaid.”

He glances down at his flannel ensemble and huffs. “They were a birthday present from my mom.”

“Shit, I miss your birthday?”

“They were a birthday from my mom three years ago,” he clarifies, handing Reno a beer and motioning for him to make room on the couch. “Speaking of, she asked me to attend her friend’s sister’s son’s wedding next month. Want to be my plus one?”

Reno shrugs. He’s never been to a wedding. “Open bar?”  
  


“Drink tickets.”

“Lame.”

“You’re telling me.” Shooing the cat out of the way, Reeve snuggles up next to him with a contented sigh. “I’m sore all over. That personal trainer I was telling you about really…”

As Reeve provides an unnecessarily detailed account of his latest exercise routine, Reno marvels at how fantastically normal this situation is - the TV muted, a cat curled up in his lap, his boyfriend supplying anecdotes that don’t involve espionage or murder. Reno’s life has taken him in a lot of unanticipated directions, but he never expected this.

Reeve’s got an arm thrown over the back of the couch, and when Reno leans back into it, he settles it comfortably across his shoulders. “You’re being kind of quiet,” he says. 

Not knowing what else to do, Reno offers the other a sleazy smirk. “Just thinkin’ about you workin’ up a sweat,” he says. “Oughta join me in the gym sometime. I’d train you up real good.”

Reeve snorts and ruffles his hair, unconcerned with the crunchy texture from all the shit Reno puts in it. “I’m pretty sure you just described an entire subgenre of porn,” he says. “Speaking of porn, did I tell you what Tevia found on the intern’s computer?”

Jokes about adult videos lead to other adult activities, and pretty soon they find themselves in Reeve’s bed. It’s usually Reno’s favorite place to be, but he’s having trouble staying focused.

The human body is so fragile, he thinks as he brushes his thumbs along the soft undersides of Reeve’s wrists. He remembers the first time he killed someone - how surprised he had been that a body could break so easy. He can’t remember how old he was exactly. Before reading his own personnel file, Reno didn’t even know his birthday. 

“Hey. Reno.”

Fighting his way back to the present moment, he finds Reeve studying him with a concerned expression. “What’s that?” 

Reeve catches the end of his rattail and threads it through his fingers. “No more excuses. Something is definitely off with you.”

Of course, Reeve would notice. “Was a long day is all,” he says, offering what he hopes is a reassuring roll of the hips. “Get my dick goin’, and I’ll shake it off.”

“Maybe I can help with that. Why don’t you relax and let me take the lead?”

“If you wanna.” Ceding control runs contrary to just about every instinct he’s got, but he’s kind of curious to see what the other has in mind.

Instead of climbing on top of him like Reno was expecting, Reeve coaxes him to lie next to him on the sheets. The pads of his fingers are soft where they caress his jaw. It makes Reno wonder what his own hands feel like, calloused and scarred across the knuckles. 

Facing each other, they share a slow, quiet kiss. Reeve’s touch drifts from Reno’s face to the slope of his neck, pausing to work out a tender spot on his left trap before slipping down to settle on his waist. 

“Must have been a really long day,” he murmurs. “You’re tense all over.”

Reno nips him on the chin. “Guess you got your work cut out for you.”

“I guess so,” Reeve says, voice reverberating low and pleasant in his chest. Pausing a moment, he allows his gaze to slide appreciatively down Reno’s physique. Reno’s no stranger to people checking him out, but he’s not sure anyone’s ever done so with this much warmth. 

“What’s this supposed to be?” Reeve asks, eyes settling on a small stick-and-poke tattoo on his flank. “A rocket?”

“It’s not a rocket.”

“Oh?” Reeve squints hard at the faded ink, then starts to blush. “ _Oh_.”

“Got it when I was still a brat. Keep meanin’ to have it lasered off.”

“I like it,” Reeve declares, massaging the lewd mark with his thumb. 

Reno snorts. “It’s one-of-a-kind. That’s for sure.”

They make out for a while longer, and Reeve gives his ass a light squeeze before shifting to grip the back of his thigh.

Reno can’t help emitting a low groan when the other’s knee slides between his legs. “You want me to come humpin’ you like a dog?” he hisses, unable to resist grinding his crotch into the solid warmth.

Kissing his forehead like he didn’t just say something hopelessly vile, Reeve shifts his thigh up a bit for better leverage. “You can if you want to,” he says, drawing Reno in and parting his legs a bit wider.

Not needing much more in terms of encouragement, Reno digs his fingers into the soft part below Reeve’s ribs and starts snapping his hips with real intent. He might be overdoing it a bit - too much friction a bit too early, jittery stabs of sensation that fall on the wrong side of the line between pleasure and discomfort - but it’s hard to care about that when Reeve is so warm and his cologne smells so nice and when Reno is so fucking relieved to think about something besides being a Turk.

“Hold on,” Reeve says, ignoring his groan of protest and steadying Reno with a gentle hand. “Take these off.”

They separate enough for him to clumsily shove Reno’s underwear down his thighs. The front of his boxer briefs are soaked, as is the place on Reeve’s pants where he’s been dry humping his leg. Reno tears his eyes away from that wet spot to find Reeve watching him. He’s got this real intense look on his face that Reno’s never seen before. “You’re making a mess,” he says.

Reno swallows. “...my bad.”

Next thing he knows they’re back at it, this time with the added benefit of Reeve’ hand working at his cock. It feels so good that it takes him a moment to realize he’s being louder than necessary - moaning in this needy, sorta whiny way he’s not sure anyone could find attractive.

Reeve’s not just anyone though, at least not if his erection pressing against Reno’s belly button is anything to go by. Reno is grateful for that, is grateful also for the other’s arm blocking out the lamplight so he has a safe, dark place to tuck his face into Reeve’s chest and fall apart. 

And Reno does fall apart. He hasn’t had a day this shitty in a long fucking time, and his head spins with how good it feels to finally let go. He knows he’s being selfish and should probably do something to reciprocate, but the best he can manage is to muffle his god awful keening against the other’s tits.

“You can be loud,” Reeve says, somehow sounding both sexy and considerate. “I like the sounds you make.”

Well, fuck him for thinking this guy was all sweet and innocent. 

“Reeve,” he hears himself say in a high-pitched, desperate voice that will definitely kill him from embarrassment as soon as he’s had a chance to cum. “...’m gonna…fuck man, I can’t…”

“Go ahead. I want you to.”

With a sharp cry, he unravels, dick spitting hot cum between them and all over Reeve’s expensive sheets. When he comes back to himself, Reno’s sprawled out on his back with the other sitting next to him, smiling fondly and looking like a huge dork in his plaid pajamas.

“You tryin’ to kill me, or what?” Reno accuses, grimacing at the clammy sensation of cooling cum on his stomach. 

“That good, huh?”

“Someone oughta gag you,” he says, gaze drifting to the tent between Reeve’s legs. “You want me to-?”

The other waves him off and reaches over Reno to fish out a packet of wet wipes from the nightstand. “Watching you was more than enough,” he says, expression sort of shy and soft.

Reno’s not sure how he feels about not returning the favor, but he figures that Reeve’s mature enough to know what kind of shit he likes. He’s also not sure how he feels when Reeve starts babying the fuck out of him by cleaning up the jizz he got everywhere and making him drink a glass of water.

“You have to hydrate,” he says stubbornly when Reno teases him about it. “That’s probably why you were feeling so bad earlier.”

Dehydration is the least of his problems, but there’s no way he can tell Reeve that. Reno wishes suddenly that he could talk to him about what Rude said earlier on the terrace. That information is beyond classified, though, as is what the Turks are going to do about it.

“Whatever,” he scoffs before dutifully drinking from the offered glass. Once it’s drained - turns out he _was_ a little thirsty - he sets it aside and starts to pull up his underwear, grimacing as the cold wet spot slides across his skin. Moments later, a pair of fresh boxers hits him in the face. “Thanks.”

...

“You’re sure?” Elena says. “Did he really-?”

“Yeah, we’re fuckin’ sure. Think we’d act if it was just a hunch?” 

Elena scowls. “Okay, Reno. You don’t have to be a bitch.”

Reno really doesn’t have to be a bitch, but he’s been dreading this meeting for two days. It’s just the four of them sitting around Tseng’s kitchen table. Tseng’s apartment has a bunch of calming, rustic chic décor, but no quantity of artfully mismatched dining chairs or throw pillows with an autumnal color scheme can lessen the shittiness of the situation. 

“We were afraid something like this might happen,” Rude says. “Thad’s attitude makes him a liability.”

When Reno was a rookie, the same was often said of him.

Having remained mostly silent until now, Tseng shakes his head. “Given what you’ve told me, I would categorize him as an active threat.”

“So there’s no other option.” Elena says with a wooden, self-defensive apathy Reno hasn’t heard from her in a long time. “Will Rufus care? I mean, they are technically related.”

“Rufus’ definition of family is somewhat atypical,” Tseng replies, knitting his fingers and gazing pensively into tea. “He won’t object.”

“So it’s settled?” Rude asks.

Tseng nods. “I don’t see any other options.”

With a sigh, Elena tips her chair back and stares solemnly at the pine knots in the ceiling. “It’s been a while since we had to do wet work,” she says. “I thought that was behind us.”

New Shinra, new Turks. Or so they’ve hoped.

As she speaks, Reno feels his stomach cramp. He’s been turning an idea over in his head. It’s an alternative he’s pretty sure Tseng won’t go for, but it could be worth a shot. “Been thinkin’,” he says. “There might be a way around this.”

Tseng raises one perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Things could get messy with his dad workin’ for Shinra. Might be better to talk to him. Let him down easy... and make sure he knows what’ll happen if he talks.”

Tseng starts to shake his head. “Reno-.”

“We wouldn’t just cut him loose,” he presses on, wishing he could emulate his superior’s unreadable expression. “I reached out to Veld. Says his network’s available to keep an eye on the kid if we need it. Make sure he don’t do nothin’ stupid.”

Rude and Elena look at him in surprise. Frowning, Tseng turns to Rude. “How much classified information has he been privy to?”

“He isn’t in too deep, yet.”

After mulling this over for a few more excruciating seconds, Tseng grants Reno a slight nod. “Very well. On this matter, I’ll defer to you.”

...

On Saturday, Reno contacts the kid with some phony bullshit about a surprise emergency preparedness exercise, and tells him to meet at an empty Shinra warehouse at midnight.

_“Are you serious?”_ Thad grouses, which Reno can relate to because even given the circumstances this late night call is kind of a dick move.

“Yeah, I’m serious, you little shit. Get over there, or I’m demoting you to infantry.”

…

When Thad arrives at the warehouse, he’s no doubt expecting to see his fellow rookies...and Reno, too, for that matter. They decided that Rude should be the one to approach him, though. Thad seems to like him best...because who wouldn’t?

It’s not as if Rude can’t handle himself around a rookie, but Reno provide backup just in case. This is a more delicate situation than they’ve dealt with in a while, and, as it was his idea in the first place, he feels he ought to see it through.

Camped out on the roof, he listens to their conversation through Rude’s wire.

_“What are you doing here?”_ Thad says, being a brat like usual. _“Reno always leads field exercises.”_

_“Change of plans. You and I need to talk.”_

_“...about what?”_

_“I think you know. And before you -.”_ The sound of frantic scuffling interrupts him. _“...before you do something like that, you should know...quit fighting, Thad. I’m trying to help you.”_

Reno tenses but doesn’t move from his position. In a one-on-one fight with Rude, Thad doesn’t stand a chance. Better to let his partner subdue the kid calmly rather than burst in and escalate things further.

_“LET GO OF ME,”_ Thad bellows, so loud it crackles uncomfortably in his earpiece. _“I didn’t do shit”_

_“Then why are you trying to run away?”_

_“I’m not running! I’ll fucking kill you!”_

Reno rolls his eyes.

_“Thad, I’m trying-.”_

Whatever Rude is about to say is cut off by a sudden, hacking cough. 

_“That’s right, you bald fuck! Take what you deserve.”_

A bad feeling curling in his gut, Reno kicks in a nearby skylight and drops into the warehouse amidst a shower of glass. 

Ignoring the jarring impact of his landing, he locates Thad standing over Rude in the center of the warehouse. The kid has a leg raised to kick his partner in the stomach, but instead of following through he’s gaping at Reno - expression caught somewhere between rage and fear.

“WHERE YOU GOIN’ THAD ?” he screams, laughing maniacally as Thad turns from Rude and bolts towards the exit. Fuck finding an alternative option, and fuck Reno for thinking that they could. If the little shithead wants to end things the Turk way, that’s exactly what they’ll do. “Come on!” he hollers over his shoulder at Rude, mag rod crackling as he starts to give chase. 

Instead of following, Rude slumps sideways to the floor.

“Rude!” Breaking hard, Reno turns and sprints to his partner. “The hell is wrong with you?” he shouts, knees hitting the concrete as he grabs the larger man by the shoulders and gives him a hard shake.

Rude gasps and twitches. His sunglasses have gone skittering off somewhere, and, illuminated by moonlight sifting through the broken skylight, his pupils are pinpricks lost in a sea of glassy white. 

“...nerve agent...” he rasps, clawing helplessly at his throat. 

What he says next is lost in a massive explosion coming from the rafters above their heads. Thad must have set the roof on fire.

Reno shakes his partner again, slapping him hard in the face when his head starts to loll. “The roof’s about to go, man. We gotta move!”

Rude tries to stand, only to collapse groaning in agony as the fire above them spreads at an alarming rate. He can’t seem to speak, but he has enough strength to hold Reno’s gaze and motion with his hand for Reno to leave without him.

“Fuck you!” Reno screams as, with a horrible crack, one of the building’s support beams plummets in flames just feet away. Wedging his shoulder under Rude’s armpit, he summons a burst of adrenaline and heaves him onto his back. 

Rude is his best friend. Rude is also so fucking heavy it makes Reno want to cry. “You asshole,” he seethes. “Passing out dramatically is _my_ thing.” 

He’s not the strongest Turk by any stretch of the imagination, and he can hardly breathe through all the smoke. But somehow, despite heat-seared lungs and a screaming back and fiery debris raining down around them, Reno manages to hobble forward, eyes trained on the exit and the cold, dark night beyond it. 

His world doesn’t consist of anything other than that door until they’ve walked through it. Even then, he keeps moving. Keen to be far away from the warehouse when it collapses. Afraid that if he stops to rest he won’t be able to start again.

It’s only when they reach the shelter of a nearby alley that Reno sags to his knees and lays Rude down gently next to an overflowing dumpster.

“Holy hell,” he says once he’s called for medical assistance. “Yo, you gotta go on a diet or somethin’ ‘cause I sure as shit...Rude?”

Rude is having a seizure. Limbs convulsing. Back bowed. Eyes rolled back and bright with pain. 

There's not much Reno can do besides hold Rude’s jaw to keep his tongue in one piece as they wait for help. “It’s gonna be okay,” he hears himself babbling as terror courses cold and biting through his veins. “You’re doin’ real good, partner. Just a little longer, yeah?”

In all their years accruing near fatal injuries, neither of them has ever been poisoned. There’s something so ugly and unfair about it. Reno can’t remember the last time he felt this helpless.

“...don’t…” he pleads as Rude’s seizing subsides into a more alarming stillness. “...Rude, come on...you can’t…”

“RENO!”

Elena’s beside him suddenly, dragging Reno out of the way as Rude is swarmed by a pack of EMTs in hazmat suits.

He was so lost in his fear that he hadn’t even noticed the medevac helicopter touching down.

Elena’s wearing PPE as well, as are the two emergency responders who suddenly converge on him. 

“Get away!” Reno snarls, trying to twist away from them and keep Rude’s prostrate form in his line of vision at the same time. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me! I’m fine.”

Elena punches him solidly in the gut. “We have to make sure you weren’t exposed, you stupid asshole. Get over yourself, and cooperate!”

...

By the time, they’ve arrived at the hospital and the medical staff have stripped Reno naked, scrubbed him down, and finally confirmed that he has, in fact, _not_ been contaminated with a deadly nerve agent, he’s so tense with anxiety he thinks his stomach might crawl out his throat.

“I wanna see him,” he complains as a doctor forces some kind of fancy eye drops on him to counteract the smoke damage. He has half a mind to shove her aside so he can look for Rude, but they haven’t given him fresh clothes yet...which might be intentional on their part to make sure he doesn’t do just that. 

“He’s still in Intensive Care,” the doc replies testily. “You’d just be in the way.”

Reno wants to ask if he’s going to make it, but he can’t get the words out. His mind spirals through all the things Rude still wants to do with his life - attend the Wutai Summer Festival, get married, have kids, put a payment down on his own apartment. Thanks to Reno’s fuck up, Rude might never get any of that.

After what feels like a million years, the medical staff decides he’s well enough to go. He throws on the spare uniform they give him and books it for the ICU.

Someone must have called ahead because Elena intercepts him in the hallway.

“Reno!” she says, grabbing him by the arm as he tries to shove past her. “Slow down. They won’t even let you see him yet.”

He turns on her with bared teeth. “Let go.”

“How will you barging in like a rabid trash fire be any help?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. She’s right. Sucking in a few shaky breaths, he scrubs a hand across his face and fixes her with an expression that is hopefully less deranged. “What d’you think, Laney? I kill my best friend, or what?”

Whatever Elena’s about to say catches in her throat. “Come on,” she finally says, releasing Reno’s wrist and grabbing the corner of his sleeve instead. “You’re not even going the right direction.”

…

They sit in the waiting room through the night’s last hours and long into the morning. Elena divides her time between harassing the nurses and medical assistants for more information and texting Tseng. All Reno can manage is to grasp a cup of cold coffee and glare at the heavy doors separating him from the ICU. 

Tseng is nowhere to be seen, but Reno has a pretty good idea what he’s up to. 

Rufus shows up around 10 AM with a pinched expression and artfully wrapped box of artisanal breakfast sandwiches. Elena’s an anxious eater, so she digs in immediately. 

“You’re alright, I take it,” Rufus says, observing Reno where he sits hunched in a stiff-backed chair. He doesn’t seem to believe his own words though because he continues to study Reno with an intensity that would make him squirm if he weren’t already so numb with dread. “Perhaps,” he continues, “you would like to take advantage of the employee overnight wellness center?”

“I’m okay, boss,” Reno says, though he must really look like shit if Rufus Shinra is telling him to fuck off and sleep. 

After talking to the doctors for what seems like a million years, Rufus leaves, and it’s just him and Elena once again. 

“You eating that?” she asks, pointing to his sandwich.

“Go for it.”

A sudden commotion from the hallway causes them both to turn. It’s the other rookies - Neysa, Matt, and Conor - all trying to squeeze through the door at the same time. 

“We heard something happened,” Neysa says, making a bee-line for Reno with the others in hot pursuit. “Is Rude okay?”

“We can’t find Thad anywhere,” Matt adds. “Did he get hurt too?”

Conor just stands there, looking nervous. 

Reno’s their mentor. He’s the one who approved their initial applications and has walked them through training every step of the way. It only makes sense that they should turn to him for guidance at a time like this, but he can’t even meet their eyes. 

“Back the hell up,” Elena snaps as she steps in front of Reno and fixes the rookies with a glare. “We’ll contact you when we know more. Until then, I’m pretty sure you all have places you're supposed to be.”

Sufficiently cowed, they file out. Neysa is the last to leave. She doesn’t say anything, but she hesitates in the doorway long enough to offer Reno a concerned look. 

…

“Critical but stable” is the description the doctor offers when they are finally allowed to visit Rude in the late afternoon. 

They have him in a room all by himself, lying with his head and torso elevated to make respiration easier. He’s got about a million IVs sticking out of his arms, a catheter bag, and a big, fat tube shoved down his throat.

Reno doesn’t know what his deal is, why _he’s_ the one who suddenly can’t breathe too good. He knew it would be bad. The medical staff said as much.

“The first week is critical,” the doctor tells them. “After that, we’ll have a better picture of what his recovery will look like.” 

He goes on to say something about Rude’s detox process, listing a lot of medications with complicated names, as well as the havoc that the poison has wrought on his body. Reno tries to pay attention, but his focus keeps coming back to Rude - unconscious and still as death.

Is this the same sort of helplessness the other felt all those times Reno went and got himself fucked up?

After a while, the doctor leaves, and it’s just the three of them. A nurse’s assistant brings chairs, and they sit in exhausted silence, listening to the sluggish beep of Rude’s heart rate monitor. 

When Elena’s PHS chimes, they both jump. Fumbling for the device, she casts Reno an apologetic look and disappears into the hallway to take the call. 

“Just you and me, huh, partner?” It’s the first thing Reno’s said since entering the room. He wants to touch Rude’s hand, but he has an irrational fear that if he does he’ll find it cold. “I...I’m sorry. If I hadn’t...man, the fuck am I supposed to do if you die?”

“Reno?” Elena’s standing in the doorway. “You got a sec?”

“Tseng came through with intel,” she says once he’s joined her in the hall. “Thad’s hiding in Wall Market.”

Reno’s not a doctor. Hell, he’s not even good at curing spells. But he has his own set of talents, and, even if they’re no good to Rude, he can put them to another use.

“Right,” he says, fear metamorphosing at last into a rage he knows exactly what to do with. “Tell Tseng I’ll handle it.”

...

It’s evening by the time he’s cleaned himself up and is ready to hit the streets. He’s not worried about finding Thad. Wall Market’s not that big, and Reno knows the right questions to ask.

Like a cockroach, Wall Market survived the death of Old Midgar. Even Don Corneo’s still around, which of course he is because it fucking figures that, despite everyone Reno’s killed, he would fail when it came to the person who deserved it most.

But the fall from Da-Chao left a mark on Corneo, as Meteor did to Wall Market. All the glitz and veneer of glamour have bled away. There are no more flashing lights and music. No more crowds of topside tourists eager for the “slum experience”. What remains is dirtier, sadder...more closely resembling what, at its heart, it's always been.

A lot of the original Wall Market businesses were destroyed during Meteor, but there’s still this dinky little diner known for watered down drinks and what one might call creative daily specials. Reno orders one to get on the proprietor’s good side and proceeds to chat him up while choking down what he thinks might be eel casserole. 

Rich looking punks like Thad aren’t exactly commonplace these days - that crowd’s moved on to the younger, brighter entertainment districts in Edge - and Thad made enough of an impression that the guy is able to direct Reno to a massage parlor a few doors down.

Upon entering the massage parlor, Reno paints on a friendly smile and walks up to the reception desk and asks the bored, middle-aged woman sitting there if they have an opening. 

“Got a couple kinks,” he says, mapping out the lobby in his periphery. “Someone here who could sort me out?”

The woman looks up from her PHS. “What kind of kinks?” 

“Nothin’ special.”

She arches a tattooed eyebrow.

“Honest to Odin, auntie. It’s just my back.”

Her expression softens somewhat, and she leads him down a hallway to a dim, garishly decorated room that smells like patchouli. 

“Sena will be with you shortly,” she says, ushering him towards a discolored massage table. “You can take your shirt off, if you like.”

Reno leaves his shirt on and sits down on the table facing the door. As he expected, the girl they send is on the younger side and wears the nervous expression of a fresh hire who’s finding the learning curve awfully steep. Makes sense to give the newbie an easy client.

“Heya,” he says, offering her a disarming smile. “You’re Sena, right?” 

“...yeah.” Her lips twitch tentatively. “Hi.” 

Reno’s always been good at making friends when it suits him to do so, and after about five minutes he has the young masseuse laughing at his jokes and telling him all about some puppy she found behind a butcher’s shop and decided to adopt. She’s real sweet and can’t be more than sixteen, and his skin crawls as she moves behind him and starts to touch his back. 

“You all doin’ okay for business?” he asks conversationally. “Don’t mean to be nosy, but I ain’t seein’ a lot of customers.”

“Tonight’s a little slow,” she admits, pressing her thumbs clumsily between his shoulder blades. “Just a few regulars. Oh, and this one younger guy.”

“You’re talkin’ about me, I’m sure.”

“Younger than you,” she says, giggling when Reno huffs in mock offense. “I don’t think he’s from around here. He’s dressed real nice and looks sorta...I dunno...aristocratic?”

“Aristocratic? Now I’m just picturin’ that asshole Rufus Shinra.”

“That’s it!” Sena says, thankfully forgetting all about the massage in her excitement. “Bunny and me kept thinkin’ he looked like someone famous, and he does. He looks just like Rufus Shinra!”

“Aw, shit. Maybe it’s really him.”

“No,” she says, sounding disappointed. “This guy’s too short.”

“Too short, huh?” Cocking his head to the side, Reno pretends to think on something. “Hey, this customer you’re talkin’ about. He have a scar cuttin’ through one eyebrow?”

“...now that you mention it, he does.”

“Sorta broad-shouldered? Sporty type?”  
  


“Y-yeah.”

Sitting up, Reno slaps his knee and laughs. “You ain’t gonna believe this, but I think I know him.”

... 

He tells Sena and the lady at the front desk that Thad is his boss’s son and that he’s going to be in big trouble for sneaking out on a school night. “How about I wait out here while one of you gets him?” he wheedles when the older woman tells him in no uncertain terms that he’s not allowed to barge into a room occupied by another guest. “Wouldn’t feel right not bringin’ him home, you know?”

This proposed compromise - plus the couple hundred gil Reno chips in for the trouble - finally convinces her. “Go,” she tells Sena. Clearly more invested in the drama than her superior, the girl readily complies. 

Reno counts to ten and then turns back to the receptionist with a sheepish grin. “Mind if I smoke in here while I wait?” he asks, pulling out a cigarette. 

“Not if you value your life,” she says with a severe frown. “We run a clean establishment.”

“Aw, okay. I’ll be just outside, then. Don’t let the kid run off on me.”

“If he runs, that’s your concern.”

Oh yeah. It sure is.

Once outside, Reno drops the cigarette and circles round to the parlor’s back entrance. He scoped it out earlier and figures that Thad was smart enough to do the same. The second Sena tells him someone’s asked for him, he’s going to bolt, and Reno will be right there to catch him. Even better, the alley that the door opens to leads to a dead end on one side, so there’s really nowhere else for Thad to go.

Not ten seconds after Reno arrives to block his escape, the rookie comes bursting through the door with an unbuttoned fly and a crazed look in his eyes. Reno’s not a mind reader, so he’s got no fuckin’ clue what Thad thinks when he sees him materialize out of the shadows in front of him, but judging by his expression it can’t be anything too optimistic.

“Heya, newbie. Fancy bumpin’ into you.”

Thad may talk a mean game, but he’s still green enough that Reno can see him trembling.

“I ain’t armed,” Reno continues, raising his empty hands by way of demonstration. “Just came to talk is all.”

“Bullshit.” The kid’s voice cracks a little. “I killed Rude. There’s only one reason you’re here.”

“Now hold on a minute. Rude’s the toughest fucker I ever met. You think a little rat poison’s gonna do him in?”

“He’s okay? Then am I...am I…”

Reno clicks his tongue. “Not gonna lie, kid. You’re in big trouble. The best thing to do is come easy so we can sort this out.”

In a sudden fit of motion, Thad makes a break for it. He must know that he can’t match Reno in terms of speed, so he charges straight at him, probably hoping to overwhelm him with brute strength.

Reno may not be as strong as Rude, but he’s always been more vicious. With a snarl, he lunges forward to meet him, grabbing Thad by the throat and slamming him back into the ground so hard his head bounces off it. Before the kid can react, he takes a taser out of his pocket, buries it in his gut, and watches with grim satisfaction as he howls and twists in a futile attempt to escape the pain. 

After about twenty seconds - though it probably felt a hell of a lot longer to Thad - Reno lets up with the taser and watches the blond twitch and moan.

“You ready to calm the fuck down?” he asks, flipping him onto his stomach and pulling out a handful of zip ties.

Still out of it from being tased, Thad doesn’t put up much of a fight as Reno secures his arms and legs - leaving just enough room for him to hobble because he sure as shit isn’t going to carry him to his car. “You got any more of that crap you used on my partner?” he asks as he pats him down for weapons. 

Thad glowers at him in a way that could be construed as childish if his face weren’t covered in so much blood. “...thought you...wanted to talk…” 

“Can still talk trussed up, can’t you?” Reno replies, relieved not to find any more chemical weapons in Thad’s pockets. He does, however, find a SOLDIER-era dirk and two of his own electricity grenades. “Someone’s been stealin’ from the supply closet,” he quips. “Right. On your feet.”

...

“Where are you taking me?”

It’s the first thing Thad’s said since Reno used Kevlar restraints to strap him into the back seat of his car.

“Takin’ you somewhere secure,” he says, glancing at him in the rearview mirror, “so we can decide what to do next.”

“You’re going to kill me.”

Considering what Thad did to Rude, it shouldn’t be this hard for Reno to maintain his anger. The further out they get from Midgar, though, the more he finds himself reflecting on the hours he spent training the kid. He had spent most of those hours thinking Thad was a spoiled, entitled brat, but still. “Tseng ain’t decided yet,” he says, keeping his voice as neutral as he can.

Thad must have pissed himself when he got tased because the whole cab reeks of it. Reno cracks the front windows to air it out and turns on the radio to drown any unnecessary thoughts. He keeps it low so he’ll know if the other tries something stupid.

“I never pegged you for a classical music lover,” Thad says after about five minutes of silence. 

“Reminds me of someone I like,” Reno replies with a lazy shrug. He knows better than to indulge in conversation, but he figures it might help Thad calm down. Also, they’re going to be driving for a while. 

“My mom’s a cellist,” Thad says. “Before she met my dad, she played in the Midgar orchestra.”

“No shit?”

“She tried to teach me when I was a kid. I didn’t take to it.”

A funny sensation curls in Reno’s chest. He never thought Thad was paying much attention during Tseng’s Kidnapping for Dummies talk a few weeks back, but apparently he picked up some things on the art of emotional manipulation. “She still play?” he asks. 

Thad’s voice takes on a mournful quality that’s almost convincing. “Not since Meteor.”

The kid might have made a decent Turk. 

…

It isn’t until they turn down a dark dirt road just outside of the Healen Lodge complex that Thad freaks out again.

“Where the fuck are you taking me?” he shrieks, jerking at his restraints and trying in vain to head butt the bulletproof glass partition. “YOU COCKSUCKER. YOU GODDAMN-.”

Reno brakes so hard, the rookie’s forehead actually cracks against the glass. “Chill the fuck out,” he says. “You think we keep safehouses in the city center?”

“You’re taking me to a safehouse?”

“Yes, I’m takin’ you to a fuckin’ safehouse. Now quit throwin’ a fit.”

When he finds the spot he’s looking for, Reno parks and leads Thad out of the car and down a faint game trail barely visible in the moonlight.

“Where are you taking me?” Thad asks.

“Just a place we got in case somethin’ like this happens.”

“You’re really not going to kill me?”

“It’s just a bit farther, kid. Quit gabbin’, and move your feet.”

“My dad has connections,” Thad says, no longer bothering to hide the tremor in his voice. “If he finds out you did something to me-.”

His words die to nothing as they emerge from the woods into a small clearing. It’s a place Reno stumbled upon about three months into Rufus’ convalescence. He was wandering through the trees trying to clear his head of Shinra crumbling and his boss bleeding black pus across the sheets when all of a sudden he came upon this grassy meadow with little blue wildflowers speckled about all over. Now that they’re approaching winter, the grass is dead and coated with a dusting of early snow. 

“Look,” Reno says, pointing at a pond near the clearing’s center with water so still it reflects the full moon perfectly. “It’s pretty, right?”

Thad looks around. “Where’s the safehouse?”

The cold must be getting to him. He’s trembling.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Reno pushes him gently to his knees. 

“You lied.”

“Get a load of that moon,” he replies, easing a gun out of the waistband of his trousers. “City boys like us don’t usually get to appreciate that kind of thing.”

“Reno...please…” 

“Where I grew up, you couldn’t see the sky,” he continues, turning off the safety and pulling the hammer back. “First time I saw it in real life, I about shit myself.”

The kid’s not struggling anymore. He’s crying.

Reno aims at the back of Thad’s skull. He doesn’t feel anger anymore. He doesn’t feel much of anything. “Keep lookin’ at that moon, okay? You’re gonna be alright.”

He fires, and Thad’s brains spray everywhere. His hot blood melts the snow, and the gunshot echoes.

Reno retrieves a shovel from the trunk of the car and buries Thad at the edge of the clearing. Far enough from the pond that erosion won’t expose the body and deep enough that animals won’t get him, either. In the coming months, winter snow will hide the disturbed earth. By spring, moss and ferns will have grown over it completely. 

Dawn is breaking by the time Reno’s finished. He imagines the moon is beautiful as it fades like a ghost into the violet dusk, but he doesn’t bother looking. 

Back at the car, Reno returns the shovel to the trunk, checks that he has his keys, and gets violently ill in some nearby bushes.

Well, that’s the last time he orders the daily special.

Driving home in silence, he watches the sun rise through a veil of pastel clouds. It’s beautiful, but as he looks at it, Reno remembers a different sky and how it fell. He used to think he escaped from under that steel sky. After so many years, he knows better.

...

Back at the Shinra hospital, Reno finds Tseng sitting at Rude’s bedside. 

“Heya, chief,” he says, pulling up a chair. “How’s the big guy doin’?”

Tseng looks up from his book. “He’ll recover,” he says, not bothering to hide the assessing quality of his stare as he gives Reno a once over.

Ignoring him, Reno concentrates on the artificial rise and fall of Rude’s intubated chest. 

“Reno?” 

“I took care of it,” he says, the weight of Tseng’s gaze almost unbearable. “The proper way this time.”

“And the body?”

“Ain’t no one gonna find it.”

“I see. Shall I contact the family?”

“I’ll take care of that, too. Don’t worry.”

A tremulous moment of silence follows in which Tseng looks like he might object, but in the end he nods. “I’ll expect the report on Monday, then.”

Grateful for this small kindness, Reno turns his attention back to Rude. He touches the back of his hand. Finds, to his relief, that it is warm.

...

He sits by Rude’s bed until mid morning, when Elena shows up to scold him.

“It’s time to leave,” she says, voice about as gentle as it ever gets. “You haven’t slept in two days. Also, you’re making the nurses nervous.”

Glancing at his haggard reflection in the window across from the bed, Reno concedes that she’s got a point. “I’ll go home,” he says, “but you gotta call me if he wakes up.”

Elena chews her bottom lip. “Home? I thought maybe you’d go to Reeve’s.”

Reeve. Was it really just two days ago they cuddled on the sofa and made plans to attend a wedding? There’s no way he can let Reeve see him like this. It wouldn’t be fair, Reno showing up with all his rage and poison on display.

As if it’s any better when he hides it.

“Don’t wanna bother him,” Reno manages to reply. “Besides, I gotta check on my cat.”

…

When he gets home, Fleabag comes running over. Instead of trying to wiggle through the door like usual, she glares up at him with baleful eyes, patchy-furred tail flicking in agitation. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Reno mutters, locking the door and kicking off his shoes, which are still muddy from the woods. “I know you ain’t been starvin’.” Just to be sure, he stomps over to the kitchen to check her water and the fancy automatic cat feeder that Reeve bought.

Speaking of food, it’s been a while since he ate anything, so Reno opens the fridge and takes out some leftovers. He eats the remaining takeout noodles cold in front of the kitchen sink. Then, he notices the trash is starting to smell bad and takes that out to the dumpster behind his building. On the way back up the stairs he starts to feel dizzy and stops to rest on the fifth floor landing. 

_Should probably get some sleep,_ chides a voice in his head that sounds like a composite of Rude and Reeve and everyone else who’s ever nagged him. 

He knows the voice is right, but he has a few things to take care of first.

Back in his apartment, Reno strips out of his clothes and takes a long, hot shower. Then, he towel dries his hair and wanders naked to his bedroom to change into something comfortable. At first, he goes for Reeve’s university sweatshirt but then thinks better of it and instead tucks the garment away in the bottom drawer of his dresser.

It’s the same drawer where he keeps bits of the other people he’s cared about. Most of those people aren’t around anymore. That’s how it goes sometimes.

A ragged cactuar plushie that belonged to his childhood crush.

A coaster from a bar in Wutai that burned during the war.

One of Veld’s cufflinks.

There are other odds and ends in there, but looking at them too long makes Reno feel kind of funny, so he hides Reeve’s sweatshirt under an ugly scarf Cissnei got him during a job in Icicle and slides the drawer shut. 

He should really, really go to bed. 

Speaking of bed, when was the last time Reno washed his sheets? 

After stripping his mattress and dumping the lot of it into the washing machine, Reno figures that he might as well deal with his work clothes too. But when he goes to retrieve them from the bathroom floor, he is overcome by another wave of nausea and ends up barfing his guts out in the toilet. 

Funky food twice in as many days? Bad fucking luck.

His clothes are covered in dirt and nettles and specks of blood, so Reno feels weird washing them with his bedding. Then he starts feeling weird about washing them in general and shoves everything into a trash bag to take to the dry cleaner’s at work. They’ll complain because most of the clothes are machine washable, but Reno’s used to that.

By the time he’s washed his sheets, put them back on the bed, tidied his living room, and cleaned the dishes, it’s mid-afternoon. Having put it off long enough, Reno makes coffee and sits down with his laptop to type up his mission report. He’s a fast typer - his usual tardiness in handing in paperwork stems from good old-fashioned procrastination - and it only takes him a few hours to get the thing written and encrypted and ready to present to Tseng. 

Reno doesn’t feel so good after finishing the report - too much coffee on an empty stomach - so he opens a window and allows himself a quick smoke break to relax.

He’s been trying to quit for three years. What’s one more cig?

By the time Reno stubs out his fifth butt in the ashtray on his windowsill, the sun is setting behind New Midgar’s jagged skyline. Reno hasn’t slept in almost 60 hours, but he doesn’t mind. There’s just one more task to tick off his list.

When Reno pulls out his PHS, it’s with the intention of going straight to his contacts, but instead he ends up in his photos, looking at the pictures from his vacation with Reeve.

He took a lot of them - the ocean, weird bugs, Reeve’s childhood bedroom with its hilarious glow-in-the-dark blanket. Reno wanted to take pictures of Reeve’s family too, but that would have been too weird, so all he has is an off-center selfie of himself and Sonya. She looks so much like her brother it makes his head spin. They have the same smile and everything.

The only picture Reno has of Reeve is one he snapped like a creep when the poor guy wasn’t looking. He took it on the way back from Costa del Sol when they were on the ferry to Junon. In it, Reeve is watching the sea from the deck railing. His hair is windswept. The tawny afternoon sun brings out the honey in his eyes. 

Reno reaches the end of the album. Might have been nice to get a photo of him and Reeve together, but what would be the point?

As the light begins to fade, Reno coaxes Fleabag onto his lap. Fidgeting with the soft tips of her ears, he summons what little energy he has left.

Reeve picks up on the second ring. _“Thanks for standing me up at lunch, you jerk! I thought we were going to try that soup place Palmer recommended.”_

“Palmer puts butter in his tea,” Reno says, smiling despite himself. “Can you imagine the kinda soup he likes?”

_“Come on. What happened to your sense of adventure?”_

“It died when I saw the words ‘fermented fish eyes’ on the menu.”

Reeve chuckles. _“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”_

Mouth suddenly dry and cottony like he might throw up again, Reno holds his breath until the nausea passes.

_“Reno?”_

The hours he spent with Reeve are pretty much the only time in his life Reno’s ever felt like a normal person. He wishes he was brave enough to tell Reeve how much that means to him.

_“Reno, what’s going on?”_

It’s cowardly doing this over the PHS, but he’s not sure he could get the words out any other way.

He closes his eyes. Forces himself to breathe.

“We should break up.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind words (and patience)! The responses to this fic so far have really warmed my heart. 
> 
> While writing this part, I realized that I would need at least three chapters to tie the story together, so please bear with me until I'm able to post the final instalment. It's already about half done (due to restructuring...), so it shouldn't take so long for me to get it out.
> 
> Also, please heed the new content warnings.

**Part 2**

**...**

Thad’s mother opens the door before Reno has a chance to knock. The second she sees the flowers, her face falls.

The flowers are nice - white lilies courtesy of Tseng. 

She lets him in, and he stands in the large foyer, feeling like he might suffocate in his buttoned collar.

“Mrs. Strait, right? You got a minute?”

By now, Thad’s mother has regained control of her expression. She is a petite, blonde woman, immaculately dressed with a glacial gaze that leaves no question as to where the Shinra blood in their family lies. 

“Of course,” she says, ushering him toward the drawing room with only a faint tremor in her hands. “Please excuse me for a moment. I must ask the maid to bring round some tea.”

Reno perches at the edge of an ornate armchair. As he waits for Mrs. Strait to order tea or pop a Valium or whatever it is she needs to do to prepare for the news of her son’s death, he gazes at the family photos on the mantle. Thad’s in just about all of them. Only child, and all that.

“You must be Reno,” she says upon returning. “Forgive my presumption. Thaddeus has mentioned you on numerous occasions.”

“Mentioned good things, I hope.”

The ghost of a smile flits across her features as she sits across from him on a matching loveseat. For the first time, Reno notices the cello in the corner.

“Is your husband home?” he continues, jerking his eyes away from the instrument. “I was hopin’ to catch you together.”

“He left for work early, but I can relay the message if you like.”

No use beating around the bush, then. 

Forcing himself to meet her gaze, Reno tells Mrs. Strait that her son was killed by the remnants of a drug cartel seeking retribution for a covert mission he participated in several weeks ago. He tells her that Thad had been instrumental in the mission’s success and that Administrative Research has already seen his killers brought to justice. He tells her that a life insurance representative will be in touch and that Shinra will cover the costs of any and all funerary arrangements. 

He pauses when the maid brings the tea.

A tense silence passes as the tea is served. Through the steam rising from their cups, Reno tries to read Mrs. Strait’s expression. It’s like trying to read Rufus, which is to say he can’t glean much. 

Once the door has clicked shut behind the maid, she urges him to continue. “And the body?”

It might have been kinder if he’d brought Thad back from Healen, but every good Turk knows that certain corpses breed more trouble than the living.

“It was in poor condition,” Reno says, trying to inject his words with carefully moderated sympathy the way that Tseng and Rude are good at. “We cremated what was left.”

Mrs. Strait remains exquisitely composed, hiding whatever it is she feels behind a lifetime of ingrained politesse. She asks a few polite follow-ups about when they will receive Thad’s ashes and whether someone might clear out his cubicle at work, but she seems largely disinterested in learning anything further about the circumstances of her son’s death. 

Once Reno’s finished lying to her, he rises from his chair and settles the bouquet of lilies carefully in the woman’s lap. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he says. “Your son was brave.” 

She gazes at the flowers. “And now he’s dead.” 

He has a sudden urge to tell her how Thad really died. Frightened. Weeping. Covered in dirt and blood. 

Instead, Reno sinks to his knees and presses his forehead to the carpet. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Mrs. Strait says. “And if it were...well, what could I do about it?”

He makes the mistake of looking up and finds her observing him. Her face and posture remain calm, but her eyes burn with a helpless, despairing hatred that Reno’s had turned on him many times before.

  
  


They remain there for some time, surrounded by a dead boy’s pictures as the tea grows cold.

...

Later that day, Reno drops by Tseng’s office to turn in his report. The rookies are just leaving as he arrives. Seeing him, they look away.

As he glances through the report, Tseng’s expression grows more and more perturbed. Reno can’t see why. In fact, he thinks it’s one of his better efforts. No coffee stains, even.

“That all you need, chief?” he asks, drumming his mag rod restlessly against his shoulder.

Tseng sets the report aside. Doesn’t even compliment the cover sheet. “It’s sufficient,” he says. “Very thorough.”

“Can I get that in writing? Nicest thing you ever said to me.”

Contrary to popular belief, Tseng is capable of feelings - as evidenced by the faint twitching of his lips. “One more thing before you go,” he says, once this gratuitous display of emotion has subsided. “As per company policy, the taxing nature of the recent mission necessitates a psychological evaluation.”

Reno groans. “Tseng, do I really gotta-?”

“As. Per. Company. Policy.”

“Fine, fine,” he says, waving a hand like that will somehow shoo away the unpleasantness of their conversation. “I’ll schedule somethin’ with the doc.”

The other’s eyes narrow in distrust, which is fair because Reno is notoriously flaky when it comes to medical appointments. That said, if it’ll get Tseng off his back for a goddamn second, he’s willing to bite the bullet. 

“Anything _else?_ ” he asks, not bothering to hide his displeasure.

“Just one thing. Until further notice, Elena is now responsible for the recruits.”

Reno tenses. “Come again?”

“I need you for fieldwork,” Tseng replies easily. “Without Rude, we’re quite short-staffed.”

“And Elena can’t do fieldwork?” 

Tseng starts straightening the papers on his desk. “You’ll do as I say, Reno.”

“Where the fuck d’you get off?” Despite his best efforts, Reno’s voice starts to rise. “This is bullshit!”

“It’s basic division of labor, actually. And judging by your reaction, it’s also the right call.”

Deciding it’s best to leave before he loses his temper and makes things worse, Reno turns on his heel and walks dramatically out of Tseng’s office. He storms down the hall, spitting mad and so consumed with indignity that he doesn’t realize he’s approaching the Office of Urban Planning until it’s too late.

He rounds the corner, and Reeve is right there looking ill at ease in a well-cut suit. He’s talking to Scarlet, but when he sees Reno he excuses himself abruptly and hurries over.

“Hey,” he says in a taut voice. “Can we talk?”

Still shaken from the morning's events, Reno steals himself. He knew this was coming, but foresight doesn’t make it any less awful. “Ain’t nothin’ more to talk about,” he says, glaring over Reeve’s shoulder at Scarlet, who is loitering conspicuously in the hall. “We hashed it out last night.”

“ _Reno, where is this coming from?”_

_“I just...we’re real different, okay? It ain’t gonna work.”_

_“It seems to be working fine so far.”_

_“Listen, man. I’m tryin’ to be nice about this, but you ain’t my type.”_

_“...what?”_

“We didn’t hash out anything,” Reeve says, voice low and trembling with hurt. “You just _informed_ me it was over and hung up.”

“Listen, “ Reno sneers, folding his arms across his chest. “You wanna know the truth? Datin’ you is a fuckin’ chore. You’re boring and needy, and you drive too slow an-.”

“But you like it!” Reeve throws up his hands. “I’m all of those things, but you fucking like it.”

“How the hell would you know?”

“Because I know _you_ , Reno.” 

The words strike Reno like a shock from his mag rod. Like knuckles ripping open against a set of teeth or a gunshot leaving someone’s son broken in the snow.

Mean as he can, he curls his lip. “Actually, Director Tuesti, you don’t know shit.”

...

That night, as he dozes off his shitty day at Rude’s bedside in the hospital, Reno dreams.

_He’s in this little shack he used to squat in on the outskirts of Sector Three. Normally, it’s full of activity - other street kids coughing and cursing. Sick and stealing and huddling to keep warm while random noises drift in from the slums outside._

_Now there is only silence. Only Reno alone in the dark._

_The back of his neck prickles as shadows that don’t match the objects in the room slide across the corrugated metal wall._

_Reno trembles. He wants to run away but has nowhere else to go._

_The shadows flicker and disperse, slithering out through cracks and corners._

_He hears a faint groan as the dirt floor bulges beneath his feet._

_A moan rises from deep within the earth. It is a hideous, human wail._

_The soil splits, and something breaks through to the surface._

_A hand. Beckoning him with bloated, gangrenous fingers._

With a shout, Reno jerks awake. Eyes darting everywhere, it takes him a long time to remember where he’s at. When he finally does, he relaxes and turns to Rude where he lies peaceful and still as death. Not knowing quite what’s wrong with him, Reno fights the urge to crawl onto the bed and curl up at his side.

“Was just a dream,” he says to his unconscious partner. “...man, I wish you’d just wake up.”

...

The next day finds Reno sleep-deprived and cranky. His bad mood is helped not at all by three unanswered phone calls from Reeve and twice as many texts.

In the future, when he is happily married to someone who doesn’t commit atrocities for a living, Reeve will thank him. For now, though, the knowledge of how shitty he must be feeling makes Reno want to puke.

The rookies know that Thad is dead. Tseng fed them the same bullshit lie that Reno told the kid’s mother. One day, once they’ve proved themselves trustworthy or are just clever enough to put two and two together, they might learn the truth.

They might suspect something already, if their stony silence in the training room is any gauge to go by.

A traitor in the Turks isn’t common, but it has happened. Back in the old days, Reno dealt with a few similar situations involving people he knew and liked a whole lot better than he knew and liked Thad. What’s his deal then? Why does he feel like he’s about to fall apart?

Bolstered by nicotine and caffeine, Reno makes it through everything the day throws at him until all that’s left is his goddamn psych eval. Whatever. The company-assigned psychologist, Doctor Mose, is a lackluster carryover from the old Shinra administration. The worst he’ll do is tell Reno that his feelings matter.

Apparently the whole world is out to fuck him, though, because when Reno enters Doctor Mose’s office, he is greeted not by Doctor Mose but by a short woman with silver box braids and a rather shrewd expression.

“Reno, right? I’m Doctor-.”

“Where’s Mose?” he asks, looking into the room over the top of her head like the old codger might be hiding behind the coat rack. “You ain’t my shrink.”

“I am, actually,” the woman says, adjusting the pince-nez on the bridge of her nose and stepping aside so he can enter. “Doctor Mose passed away some time ago.”

Reno bursts out laughing. “Fuckin’ hell. Of course he did.”

If she is ruffled by his less than socially appropriate reaction to this news, the new doctor doesn’t show it. Instead, she ushers Reno towards a pair of floral armchairs that are clustered cozily in one corner. There's a little end table between them on which are perched a box of tissues and collection of well-kept succulents.

“Kill me,” he mutters as he plops down in one of the chairs.

“I am Doctor Obasi,” the shrink supplies as she settles in the seat across from him. “My understanding is that you were required by your supervisor to participate in a behavioral health assessment.”

“Uh-huh.” Reno picks up a cactus from the cluster of plants and inspects its tiny spines. “You want me to fill out one of them questionnaires, or what?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” She hands him a few forms on a clipboard and a pen.

Reno circles NO on every question without reading them and hands the clipboard back to her. 

For the first time, Doctor Obasi arches an eyebrow. “You seem quite certain of your responses.” 

Might as well come out with it. “Listen, doc,” he says. “I can be the asshole who ruins your day or the asshole you ship out of here in five minutes. It’s up to you, but I know what I’d choose.”

He’s laying it on pretty thick, but it’s not as if being a dick to his therapist is the most morally reprehensible thing he’s done this week.

“How about this?” Doctor Obasi says, setting Reno’s questionnaire aside. “I’ll ship you out of here in five minutes if you agree to complete a homework assignment.”

“Homework? You sayin’ I gotta come back here later?”

She smiles - not unkindly but still with a bit of sharpness that, under different circumstances, Reno would probably like. “Yes, but it also means you won’t have to be here now.”

“Fine,” he says, putting the cactus back on the table in a different spot from where he found it. “What do I gotta do?”

The doctor pulls out a piece of paper identical to the one Reno just filled out. “Complete this,” she says. “And read it this time.”

…

After leaving Doctor Obasi’s office, Reno shoves the form thoughtlessly into his pocket and makes a bee-line for Rude’s room. His condition has stabilized pretty well over the past few days. They’ve taken him off the ventilator, and there’s even talk of moving him to the recovery wing. 

But he still hasn’t woken up. 

“Hey,” Reno says as he pulls a chair up next to his partner’s bed. “You ain’t gonna believe the shit I just had to put up with.”

That said, he proceeds to catch Rude up on every mild inconvenience of his day. He doesn’t know if Rude can hear him, but if he figures that if his complaining is irritating enough, he might wake out of sheer annoyance. 

Elena stops by after work with a garish “Get Well Soon” balloon for Rude and a cup of instant noodles that she thrusts unceremoniously into Reno’s hands. “Don’t stay so late this time,” she says as she ties the balloon to the foot of Rude’s bed and leans over to inspect him for signs of improvement. “You have a double shift tomorrow.”

Reno grumbles and slurps his soup. “You’re one to talk. Looks like you ain’t slept in weeks.”

“Are you insulting my appearance?”

“Yes.”

Elena kicks the underside of his chair. “Says the guy with the flattest ass in Midgar.”

“Is it as flat as your hair, though?”

“You have a mullet, Reno. Your hair opinions are invalid by default.”

They both pause, automatically waiting for Rude’s gentle scolding. When it’s just the three of them, he’s always the one to provide reasonable and usually more work-appropriate counterpoints to their banter. 

At the silence that greets them, Elena deflates. “I’m going to head out,” she says, giving Reno’s shoulder a goodbye pat. “Seriously, don’t stay all night.”

...

_He startles awake in darkness. No blinking medical equipment. No hallway light shining beneath the door._

_Something’s wrong._

_Holding his breath, Reno listens intently for any sounds of life - doctors, nurses, the faint hum of the central heating - but only silence and shadows greet him._

_Even the machines hooked up to Rude are-._

_A monotonous drone cuts through the quiet. It’s the heart rate monitor attached to Rude’s bed._

“Rude!”

Reno comes to with a gasp. He’s sitting next to Rude’s bed again. He must have dozed off, but why would he do that when...oh. It was a dream. 

There’s a light pressure on his wrist, and when Reno looks to see what it is he almost shouts in surprise. 

Rude’s eyes are open - as warm with concern as they are foggy and confused. He’s woken up and, somehow, had the presence of mind to reach across the bed and touch Reno’s arm.

A nauseating flood of relief and shame coursing through him, Reno catches his partner’s hand and squeezes it tightly between his own “Welcome back,” he says, ducking his head so Rude can’t see how hard he’s blinking. Then, he places his hand gently on the bed and runs to the hall to holler for a nurse.

…

Two weeks later, Rude is cleared to return home. The hospital staff chip in to purchase him a care basket before he goes. Unlike Reno, Rude has been a model patient.

“This kind of fuss isn’t necessary,” Rude insists as he accepts the gift with an embarrassed flush. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

As he promised repeatedly, whether or not Rude was even awake to hear it, Reno is there to take him home. “Why do they like you so much anyway?” he gripes as he helps his partner into the passenger seat of his car. 

Rude just hums and pops Reno’s glove compartment to grab the spare sunglasses he stashed there. He looks worlds better than he did when he was first hospitalized, which is to say not nearly as well as Reno would like.

“Take me home,” Rude says.

Warmth blooms in Reno’s chest. “You got it.”

...

Rude rents a high rise apartment in Edge’s bustling downtown. Everything he keeps in it is very minimal and, under normal circumstances, immaculate, but he was in the hospital so long that a thin layer of dust has collected on all those dark, sleek surfaces.

Rude’s shoulders relax visibly when they enter. He’s the kind of guy who thrives on habit and control. Being back in his own space must be a big relief.

“Sit your ass down,” Reno scolds when the other starts moving toward the kitchen. “Just tell me what you want.”

“Beer,” Rude says, collapsing with a sigh onto the large, L-shaped sofa in his living room. “No. Bourbon.”

Reno brings both, and they drink boilermakers while watching a cooking show on TV. Rude has this really prissy habit of muting the commercials, but Reno’s still so happy he’s alive that he lets it slide. 

“Can’t believe you carried me out of that warehouse,” Rude says during one of these silences.

Reno shrugs. “You’ve done shit like that for me.”

“Yes, but I’m not a welterweight.”

“Ha fuckin’ ha.”

The cooking show comes back on, but Rude leaves the sound off and stares pensively into the dregs of his glass. “It’s too bad about Thad,” he finally says. “If he’d just listened to me-.”

“Ain’t your fault,” Reno says, keeping his eyes fixed on the TV, where a contestant is crying mutely over a collapsed soufflé. “Kid was trouble from the beginning.”

Rude starts fixing them a second round of drinks. “Who carried out the hit? Elena?”

“Nah, I handled it”

Rude accidentally sloshes a bit of bourbon on the coffee table. “That so?”

“Least I can do is clean up my own messes,” Reno says, wiping away the liquid with his sleeve.

...

Despite his protests, Rude isn’t exactly in tip-top shape, so Reno feels entirely justified in nagging him every time he so much as attempts to blink unsupervised. When Rude yawns, he clicks off the TV and announces that it’s time for bed. 

It isn’t quite eight thirty.

“You gotta regain your strength,” he says when Rude correctly points out that Reno is neither a medical professional nor his mother. “Sleep replenishes your immune system.”

“I think it’s more complicated than that.”

“You ain’t a doctor neither, last time I checked.”

“At least let me shave first,” Rude mutters, running a hand disapprovingly over the short hairs that have sprouted from his head during his convalescence. He moves to stand, only to sag back onto the couch with a pained grunt.

Reno’s at his side in an instant. “Hey partner, you o-.” 

“Just a bit lightheaded,” Rude says, waving him off. He manages to keep his feet under him on the second try, but that doesn’t stop Reno from hovering.

While his partner washes up and engages in his preferred grooming routine, Reno parks himself shamelessly on the lid of the toilet just to make sure he doesn’t spontaneously die in the shower. At this point in their friendship, privacy is a foreign concept anyway.

Rude finally escapes his caretaking by locking himself in his bedroom to change. When he emerges to find Reno setting up pillows and blankets on the sofa, he lets out a fond, if somewhat exasperated, sigh. 

“Would you like to stay over?” he asks flatly.

“Kind of you to offer, yo.”

…

_He finds himself in the forest clearing near the Healen Lodge. Beneath his feet, new grass sprouts, and wildflowers tilt their faces tenderly towards the sun. The air is fresh and cool with a hint of damp warmth beneath it that speaks of winter folding into an early spring._

_Reeve stands at the edge of the pond facing away. His hair is unkempt, and his shoulders slouch in a weary, familiar way that makes Reno ache._

_When Reno tries to go to him, he finds the going difficult. His boots sink into the rich soil, become tangled in roots and budding foliage._

_Ahead, Reeve starts wading out into the pond._

_Wait, Reno tries to say. The word comes so quiet there’s no way that he can hear._

_A shadow passes over the sun and stays there. Looking up, he finds a steel sky stretching in all directions - suspended so far above them that wispy clouds have formed beneath it._

_With the shadow comes unease, settling on the quiet clearing like a pall. Reno doesn’t have much time._

_A metallic scream tears through the birdsong and the whir of springtime insects. The metal sky tilts._

_With the slow, deliberate grace of a leviathan breaching the waves, it starts to fall._

_Run, Reno tries to shout, but Reeve has stopped moving and stands still as death in water that laps gently at his knees. Reno calls his name over and over, tearing his throat raw as he tries to emit anything louder than a whisper._

_He stumbles and thrashes - crushing flowers and gouging up rich clumps of soil. He tries to hurry, but his feet only sink deeper into the verdant earth. If only Reeve would turn around so Reno could warn him. Then, he could escape. Or maybe...maybe Reeve would come back for him._

_High above, the steel sky grows larger in Reno’s vision._

_It’s hopeless, would be easier, probably, to close his eyes and welcome that crushing weight. But Reno has never known how to do anything but fight. Even with the screech of snapping rebar vibrating in his bones, he struggles and pleads and snarls with fear._

_Something tightens around his ankle._

_White lilies._

Reno jolts awake. “Fuck me,” he mutters, burying his face in his pillow to muffle a plaintive groan. 

A bit shaky on his feet, he gets up to piss and pour himself a glass of water. He checks in on Rude while he’s at it and finds to his relief that the big guy is snoring peacefully.

Reno wishes he could say the same for himself. Not caring to be at the mercy of his subconscious any longer, Reno fucks around on his PHS for a while, eats the leftover pizza from dinner, and decides to check on Rude again. 

Rude’s exactly where he left him, so Reno slinks back to the couch and plays with a new filter app he downloaded. He tries at last to go back to sleep. Looks through his emails. Tries to sleep again. When he gets up to grab another glass of water, Reno figures that he should look in on his partner one last time to be safe.

When he peers into the bedroom, Rude sits up with a sleepy grunt. “What is it, Reno?”

“Uh, hey.” He rocks back on his heels. “You sleepin’ good?”

“How’m I supposed to sleep with you stomping in to check on me every fifteen minutes?”

“I’m not _stomping_ ,” he says, affronted. “You just sleep light.”

Rude makes room on the bed. “Just come here.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Yes, you do.”

Feeling only slightly embarrassed that this is absolutely the case, Reno slips through the doorway and into Rude’s bed. “I got cold is all,” he says, burrowing under the blankets and tucking his face into one of Rude’s pillows with a pleased sigh.

“Sure.”

“Ain’t gonna keep you up or nothin’?”

“Depends. Will you quit talking?”

Reno actually listens to him, and after a few minutes of quiet Rude starts to snore again. It’s a familiar sound and reminds Reno fondly of all the missions they’ve been on together - long stakeouts where they had to take turns sleeping on a dilapidated cot or times they passed out on the same mattress, too exhausted to care whose feet went where.

It’s unthinkable what Reno would have done if Rude had died.

Unable to resist, Reno squirms stealthily toward the center of the bed. He doesn’t want to crowd Rude or nothing. He just...well, it feels a bit better being close enough to feel his warmth.

Rude stops snoring suddenly and then, rolls over with a grumpy snort to throw an arm around his waist. “It’s fine,” he mumbles when Reno squawks indignantly. “I don’t mind, and you know it.”

Just like in the hospital, Rude’s taking care of him when it should go the other way.

“I’m sorry,” Reno mutters as shame and cold pizza churn in his stomach.

“For waking me up?”

“You know why.”

He feels Rude exhale. “Reno, you saved my life.”

Shaking his head, Reno winds his fingers tightly in the other’s shirt.

“Come on,” Rude says, taking his hands and prying them loose from the stretched out fabric. “Just because it was your plan, you think you’re responsible for everything that went wrong?”

“Ain’t that. I just-.”

“Reno.”

Reno opens his mouth to tell Rude how wrong he is, but instead he breaks. It happens in a rush. One minute, he’s fine, and the next he’s muffling choked off, inhuman noises into his partner’s chest. He doesn’t cry exactly, but his breath hitches in an ugly way, and though he tries not to, he clutches at Rude so hard he’s afraid he’s hurting him.

Reno knows he’s being selfish. It’s not Rude’s job to comfort him when he’s the one who...but fuck. It’s like every bad thing he’s ever felt is shaking loose inside him all at once. 

Through the tightness in his throat, he manages to find his voice. “I...if you…”

“I know,” Rude replies, voice almost mournful.

“You gotta be more careful.”

“I will.”

“Gonna give me a heart attack or some shit.”

Rude presses his lips to Reno’s hairline. “We can’t have that.”

Reno’s chest continues to heave and tremble. “Somethin’s wrong,” he says. “I can’t breathe right.”

Rude makes soft shushing sounds and kisses him again - on his forehead, his cheeks, chaste and comforting on Reno’s mouth. “There you go,” he soothes as his jackhammering heartbeat starts to slow. “We’re both fine, see? Everything’s all right.” 

“Sorry,” Reno says again, quieter this time as exhaustion catches up with him. “Been feelin’ off lately.”

Shaking his head, Rude smooths a hand gently through Reno’s hair. “You talk to Reeve about it?” he asks. “Might say something real wholesome to cheer you up.”

Reno squeezes his eyes shut and tucks his face into the other’s warmth. “Right,” he says. “About that.”

...

Reno’s life falls into a cycle of day and night, insomnia and dreams, work and the dusty silence of his apartment. He drinks and smokes more than he should. He forgets to do laundry. He feeds the cat and visits Rude and ignores the shrink’s emails about a follow-up appointment.

Rude is more durable than the other Turks, and so his recovery progresses rather well. After the first week, he’s asking when he can return to the office. Tseng refuses, but sends Reno over with some paperwork to keep him busy.

Reeve hasn’t reached out in weeks. This shouldn’t bother Reno, seeing as cultivating distance was his goal to begin with, but he can’t shake the sense of loss. He avoids the Office of Urban Planning as much as possible, but he still sees Reeve at company events sometimes. They always avoid each other’s eyes.

Most of the time, Reno wishes he could cut the past three months from his memory - not just the ugly business with Thad, but the good times he shared with Reeve as well. Maybe then his life would return to the shades of gray he’s used to.

One day, for the first time in over a month, Reeve leaves him a voicemail. 

_“Hey. It’s me. Obviously. I know you don’t want anything to do with me, but I heard about Rude’s...was it really an accident? Not that you’d tell me either way. Anyway, I know the two of you are close, so I wanted...I wanted…”_

In the recording, Reeve sighs. He sounds exhausted. Maybe a little drunk.

_“...I don’t know why I’m saying this because I don’t think you care, but I’ve been thinking a lot about our situation. At first, I figured I had done something wrong or that there was some shady Turk bullshit going on that you didn’t want me involved in. The more I think about it, though, the more I realize that you were right to call things off.”_

As he listens, Reno is drinking alone in a trendy, faux shabby bar near the office. He’s three in and definitely shouldn’t be going at it so hard on his lunch break, but it’s Friday. Who gives a fuck?

_“I don’t think I ever understood you,”_ Reeve continues. _“You wouldn’t let me. No straight answers. No information that didn’t feel like half a truth. I always felt like you were hiding. Not on purpose, maybe. It’s like you just don’t know any other way to be._

_“I’ve spent a lot of my life fixing things, so I’m pretty good at it by now, but I...for my own sanity, I’ve got to let this go. I’m tired, Reno. I’m going to hang up.”_

Reno doesn’t delete the message like he did the others. Instead, he listens to it twice all the way through, pays his tab, and returns to the office.

…

The afternoon crawls by with unusual slowness. No missions. No rookies to boss around. Reno’s even caught up on his paperwork.

There’s still the matter of Doctor Obasi’s assignment.

When the building was constructed, Rufus had insisted that all execs and upper management have their own offices. Until now, Reno’s never found a use for the privacy this affords.

Gnawing at his pen cap, he smooths out the crumpled paper and starts reading it over. He’s not sure why he finds this so fucking hard. It’s a medical intake form. Most people probably finish it in five minutes, max.

_1\. In the past two weeks, have you or a member of your household experienced emotional abuse?_

“This survey is emotional abuse.”

_No._

_2\. In the past, have you or a member of your household ever experienced emotional abuse?_

_No._

_3\. In the past two weeks, have you or a member of your household experienced physical assault?_

Does it count if it’s for work? Reno scrawls a question mark in the margin.

_4\. In the past, have you or a member of your household ever experienced physical assault?_

He rolls his eyes.

_Yes._

_5\. In the past two weeks, have you or a member of your household experienced sexual abuse or assault?_

_No._

_6\. In the past, have you or a member of your household ever experienced-._

There’s a knock on his door. 

Relieved, he stashes Doctor Obasi’s survey away and clears his throat. “What?”

The door creaks open. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Neysa says by way of greeting. She inspects the bare, musty shelves. “I, uh, didn’t know you had an office.”

Reno shrugs and tries not to let on how surprised he is. Neysa and the rest of the newbies have been avoiding him for weeks. “Ain’t the most hospitable place. You wanna chat outside?”

The rookie shakes her head. “Actually, I wanted to catch you alone.” Clicking the door shut behind her, she moves to stand in front of his desk. She always toys with her hair when she’s nervous. It’s a tell he should remind Elena to train out of her.

“What is it?”

“I want to quit.”

It takes a second for the words to register. “Oh,” he finally says. “And why is that?”

Neysa struggles to keep her breathing steady. She’s scared of him, Reno realizes. He can see the pulse jumping in her throat. “I’m not cut out to be a Turk,” she finally says. “I don’t...I don’t want…” 

“You should discuss this with Elena.” It’s a cowardly thing to say, but Reno can’t bear how she’s looking at him. “She’s in charge of your trainin’ now.” 

He waits for her to nod and leave, but instead Neysa remains rooted in place. “What really happened to Thad?” she asks, watching him with glassy eyes like he might lunge at her from across the desk. 

Damn. The kid’s so fuckin’ sharp. 

“Are you sure you want to know?” 

“...no,” she says, voice smaller than he’s ever heard it.

Reno nods. “If that’s the case, then you’re right. You really wouldn’t cut it as a Turk.”

If she’s offended by this, Neysa doesn’t show it. “So, what now? Are you going to kill me?”

Reno digs his fingers into his thighs. “That ain’t how we do things now.”

“What about Thad?”

“Thought you didn’t wanna know about Thad.”

“I don’t. I just…”

“No one’s gonna kill you, Neysa. I wouldn’t let ‘em.” 

These aren’t the words Reno meant to say, but they seem to have a calming effect. “Okay,” she says quietly. “I...I’ll tell Elena this afternoon.”

It’s a shame. Neysa was their star recruit.

“You do that,” Reno says. “Things’ll be different once you’re out.”

“I know.” 

“Got any idea what you’ll do?”

Neysa’s a slum kid. She doesn’t have much in the way of prospects. 

She shrugs. “I’ll figure it out.”

“I’ll let you know if I hear of somethin’,'' Reno says, though he probably shouldn't get involved. “Take care.”

“I will, Reno. Thanks.”

... 

Reno works through the weekend, and the whole time, he can’t stop thinking about Neysa. She’s got a past a lot like his. Well, not so much crime and substance abuse, maybe, but she certainly has had it tough. He really wishes he could help her somehow, but he doesn’t have many career connections outside of Administrative Research.

There’s always the infantry, he supposes, but that would be a waste of her talent.

The idea comes to him while he’s on patrol in the new slum district in Edge. He’s skulking in the shadows of an underpass when he notices a big neon billboard that’s been thrown up near the highway. 

_Save the Planet!_

_Restore Gaia!_

_Join the WRO!_

Shit. That’d be perfect.

…

“Not a bad idea,” Rude says when Reno asks for his advice. “Think you can handle seeing him?”

Reno scoffs, but the truth is he’s not sure. He’s been stewing on it for days - how _not_ to fuck up asking Reeve about gettng Neysa a job with the WRO. “Still think I should text him,” he says.

Rude shakes his head. “That’s unprofessional. And lame.”

There’s worse things to be than lame, but he takes his partner’s point. “What about an email? That professional enough?”

“Reno.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll do it face-to-face. Unless a phone call-.”

“No.”

“...fine.”

They’re having lunch in a curry joint across from Rude’s apartment, the first time Reno has deemed the other well enough to do so. It’s a sweet, mom and pop-type shop at odds with the office buildings towering above it.

Reno shoves a mouthful of rice into his mouth and gazes glumly out the window. It’s a crisp, sunny day, one of the season’s last, but he can’t bring himself to enjoy it.

“Can I ask you something?” Rude says, carefully wiping his mouth with a napkin. “You ever think it might be good to talk to him about it?”

“Talk to who about what?”

“Reeve. About you know exactly what.”

Reno bristles. “What’s there to talk about. It’s over.”

“You were happy with him. Why deny that?”

“Because I ain’t good for him!” Reno snaps, annoyed that Rude of all people is pushing back on this.

Unruffled, Rude packs his biodegradable eating utensils neatly into the empty takeout container. “Guy’s supposed to be a genius. He can probably determine what’s good for him without your help.”

Reno narrows his eyes. “Maybe you should mind your own business, partner.”

“Says the man who stalks me when I go on dates.”

“I’m serious, Rude. Just drop it.”

Rude deflates. “I want you to be happy. That’s all.”

“Happy? I…” Reno cuts himself off and lowers his voice so no one else can hear. “I killed Thad, man. A kid I spent every day with for the last six months. I...I done so much worse than that, too. You know what I mean.”

Rude frowns. “You don’t deserve to be with him. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yo, I don’t even deserve to be alive and breathin’ in this goddamn restaurant.”

For a moment, Rude doesn’t say anything. His expression is troubled, maybe a little worse than troubled. Though he’s not much hungry anymore, Reno starts shoveling curry into his mouth.

“Would you say the same of me or Elena?” Rude finally asks. “Or Tseng?”

“...that’s different.”

Rude crosses his arms. “How?”

“You’re really fishin’ for compliments, huh? It’s ’cause you’re...you know, nice, or whatever.”

“ _Tseng_ is nice?”

“...maybe ‘nice’ ain’t the word, but you’re…” Reno groans in frustration. “I ain’t got the words for it, I guess. Anyway, let’s get back on task. Should I visit Reeve in his office? And do I call beforehand or just kinda show up?”

...

Reno arrives at work on Monday resolved to get his conversation with Reeve over with as soon as possible. This resolve lasts until the first convenient distraction - a jammed copy machine - becomes available. One menial task leads to another. Of course, he tries to tell himself that he’s just too busy - there are briefs to review and data to collate, and he’s been meaning to clean out his desk for about a year. 

By the afternoon, though, Reno’s run out of busy work. Heart in his throat, he makes his way to the Office of Urban Planning. 

“He’s in a meeting,” Reeve’s assistant, Tevia, says when he asks. Reno used to be quite chummy with her, but judging by her glare, he’s willing to bet she got wind of the breakup and is quite confident in her choice of sides.

“Any clue when he’ll be out?”

Not bothering to check Reeve’s calendar, she shrugs. 

“...right.” Figuring that causing a scene at the front desk would be pretty counterproductive, Reno retreats and spends the rest of the afternoon pretending to write a report. 

Neo Shinra officially closes for the day at five o’clock. At six thirty, most of the staff will have left, and by eight, the cleaning crew will be finished, too.

The longer he waits, the itchier Reno gets. He takes laps around the building - snooping through dark offices and broom closets, rearranging the magnets on all the breakroom fridges.

When the digital clock on his desk reads nine, Reno decides that he’s waited long enough. Gathering the scraps of his determination, he makes sure his hair looks okay and marches down to Urban Planning.

Like always, Reeve is working late. 

He doesn’t notice Reno at first, so he takes the opportunity to observe him from his office doorway. Reeve is pouring over a paper file, muttering to himself and looking up occasionally to cross-check something on his computer. His hair is mussed, and his suit jacket has been tossed carelessly over the back of his chair - which he sits in with posture so terrible it could probably fund a chiropractor’s retirement. 

He has bags under his eyes. 

He needs a shave.

Reno wants him so badly, he feels sick.

Figuring he’s lurked long enough, he clears his throat.

Reeve’s head snaps up. When he sees him, he rubs his eyes like he’s not sure that Reno’s real.

“Hey,” Reno says. “You got a sec?”

Reeve swallows audibly and nods. “Of...of course. I can clear off one of these chairs if you like.”

Even in this situation, he’s so fucking perfect. So unfailingly polite. 

Reno eyes the precarious stacks of books and documents sitting on said chairs and shakes his head. “Won’t take long. Just a quick work question.”

“A work...I see.” Reeve’s shoulders slump a little. Setting his papers aside with deliberate slowness like he’s buying time to collect himself, he turns to Reno with a closed, less vulnerable expression. “Well?”

Reno makes his pitch - talks up all of Neysa’s strong points - her intelligence and her work ethic and her experience coordinating supply logistics and anything else he can think of that would suit the WRO. The more he talks, the more he starts to squirm inside at how quiet Reeve is being. “She’d make a real good addition to your team,” he finishes, a little pleadingly. “Solid in just about every way I can think of. Could prob’ly deadlift a car, too, if that matters.”

“I see,” Reeve says in a tone so bland and professional it makes Reno want to brain himself against the edge of his desk. “If you don’t mind me asking, why does she want to leave Administrative Research?”

“It, uh, she decided it wasn’t for her.”

  
“But why?”

Reno debates how much to disclose. “You mighta heard about a casualty in our office,” he says, knowing full well the effect his words will have on a soft-hearted guy like Reeve. “The kid who died was part of her recruitment cohort. They weren’t exactly friends, but she was pretty cut up about it.”

“I did hear about that,” Reeve says, sounding as sympathetic as Reno had predicted. “Director Strait’s son, right?”

Reno feels his heart rate accelerate. Does he know? No, how could he? “Yeah,” he manages. “That’s him.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Uh-huh.”

Reeve stares down at his desk for a moment. “Okay,” he finally says. “Ask her to come by my office tomorrow morning.”

Tension Reno didn’t realize he was carrying bleeds away. “Thanks, Reeve. That means a lot.”

Unexpectedly, Reeve snorts. “We’re on a first name basis again, I see.”

“Reeve, I...I didn’t come here to talk about that.”

“Of course, you didn’t. Gaia forbid we _talk_ about it.” Reeve collapses back in his chair, looking every one of his thirty-something years. “I was really happy, you know, when you started paying attention to me. It was so...flattering that someone like you would...anyway, it’s over now.”

Reno runs a hand roughly through his hair. He should go. It would be the kindest thing for both of them. “Man, why d’you gotta do that?” he snaps instead.

“Do what?”

“Act like only an idiot could like you. I’m not an idiot, and I like you plenty.”

“Like me?” Reeve laughs in disbelief. “You _broke up_ with me.”

“I ain’t lyin’,” Reno insists, though saying so is unhelpful in just about every way he can imagine. “You got no idea, man. Sometimes, I think about you so much, it feels like I’m losin’ it.”

“Then, why did you...you know what? No. Nevermind. I’m sick of trying to sort through all your bullshit.”

In his entire life, Reno never thought Reeve capable of saying something that could truly hurt him. It’s not as though his words are particularly cruel, but they strike close to a fear that, until this very moment, Reno didn’t know he had.

Something of this must show in his face because Reeve’s eyes grow wide and bright and so sorry it makes Reno’s head spin to know that look’s for him. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he says. “I didn’t mean-.”

“It’s okay.” Reno’s amazed how calm he sounds considering it feels like Reeve just gutted him. “I ain’t mad.”

He means to say more - something reasonable about how Reeve is right and how Reno’s “bullshit” is the real reason he decided to call it quits on their relationship - but he finds himself distracted by the other’s hand, which has reached across the desk to settle apologetically on his arm. 

It’s unbearable how much he missed that gentle touch. 

Reno’s desperate suddenly, would do anything to bridge the gap between them and get Reeve to look at him in a way that wasn’t so full of anger and regret. “How about I make it easy?” he says before he can stop himself. “No bullshit, yeah? Just take what you want.”

When Reeve doesn’t say anything to this, a pang of anxiety shoots through him. Biting his lower lip, Reno leans over the desk so that his shirt gapes open and starts fiddling with the other’s tie. “What d’you say?” Feeling unmoored, ashamed, and terrified, he fixes Reeve with a sultry look. “Ain’t gotta feel bad about it.”

For a moment, all he can hear is the sound of Reeve’s shaky breathing - harsh and uneven in the quiet room. His hands clench. His gaze skitters down the deep valley of Reno’s exposed chest. Wanting. Aching, even. 

Reno can almost feel it - Reeve’s hand reaching out to cradle the back of his head, the scratch of his beard as he presses their mouths together.

Just as hope starts to flicker, Reeve steps back

“I’m not going to have sex with you,” he says, voice quiet and firm in a way that feels like a deadbolt sliding into place. “It’s late, Reno. You should go.”

...


	3. Chapter 3

...

In the cold, concrete confines of the parking garage, Reno leans against his car and smokes a cigarette. He’s just left Reeve’s office...been dismissed from Reeve’s office. 

He drops the cigarette and puts it out with his heel, staring for a long time at the streak of ash left on the asphalt. He can’t stomach going home, dreads with every part of him the thought of spending any amount of time alone with himself. The next logical choice is Rude, but comfort isn’t what he wants, either.

Reno slides into his car and gives himself a once over in the rearview mirror. He looks like shit, but where he’s going, nobody will care.

...

He arrives at Wall Market 30 minutes later and enters the first bar he sees. There’s a two-for-one special on drinks. Reno bolts the first shot as soon as it hits the counter and then settles back to sip the next one more sedately. He feels at home. This shitty bar is where he belongs.

Pretty soon, a man about twice his age sidles up. Reno lets the guy buy him another drink. When he puts an arm around his waist, he lets him do that, too.

The night spirals in dim, sticky loops of booze, smoke, and sour breath. The man who approached him leaves and then comes back. Or maybe someone different. Reno doesn’t care. In the corner, the jukebox bleeds songs from his childhood, and, in the mirror behind the bar, he can see the reflection of the street outside. There’s a massage parlor across the way like the one where he ambushed Thad. Its neons flicker. 

Someone brings him another drink, offers him a bump of white powder that he declines. When people talk to him, Reno nods and pretends to listen. When his thoughts spin, he rests his forehead on the counter until the feeling stops.

“You look like you come here often,” a woman says, though he’s never been to this bar before.

Reno laughs. He remembers how the insides of Thad’s skull glittered wet beneath the stars.

…

He wakes up alone in his car.

For a few, blissful seconds, Reno feels okay. Then, his senses catch up to him, and his head _pounds_. He tries to recall the previous night. Some of it is there. Most isn’t.

Hell of a Turk he is.

Glancing down, Reno finds his fly undone and a used condom in the cup holder. 

“You stupid ho,” he says, smacking his forehead on the steering wheel. He’s not a prude or anything. Getting stupid drunk and sleeping around has gotten him through some of the darkest days of his career, but he doesn’t like when he can’t remember things, and he likes even less what this says about him and Reeve. 

Not that Reno’s holding out for him. That’d be stupid considering that he’s the one who called things off, but Reno can’t shake the thought that the previous night marked some kind of ending.

…

One bright spot in Reno’s melodramatic fuckery occurs the following week when Rude returns to work. 

“You owe me eight double shifts,” he jubilantly informs his partner during the Monday staff meeting. Rude grumbles good-naturedly, Elena rolls her eyes, and the recruits smile to see their superiors returning to their usual, only moderately cranky selves.

With Rude back, all the shit that’s gone down the past few months will become another distant memory. Reno will get back on track. The world will continue spinning.

This is what he sincerely believes right up until he hears the argument.

He doesn’t _intend_ to eavesdrop, but when Reno walks by the closed door to Tseng’s office one morning and hears his partner’s voice behind it, he finds his interest piqued. 

_“...can’t believe...let him go off by himself like that.”_

  
Even with his ear plastered to the door, he can’t make out Tseng’s response.

_“...I don’t care...you’re job, isn’t it? How do you_ think _he’s doing?”_

Fuck. When was the last time he heard Rude raise his voice?

Feeling like a child who just realized his parents are fighting, Reno retreats. He’s not sure what the issue is, but he doesn’t want to get caught snooping and make things worse. Pitiful as it is, the Turks are the only family he’s got.

...

Doctor Obasi’s office won’t leave him alone. Email after email. Phone calls, even. This, coupled with the fact that he’s running out of excuses to miss joint meetings with Urban Planning, convinces Reno that it might be good to clear out of town for a bit. 

There haven’t been many missions up for grabs recently, but he manages to get his mitts on a lame, photo op gig in Wutai assisting a Shinra-fundeded restoration project at Da-Chao Mountain, which was defaced during the war. Reno picks it for the location, mostly. It’s as far from New Midgar as he can get. 

When he jumps out of the helicopter and comes face to face with Strife, Wallace, and that loud-mouthed ninja chick, Reno realizes that Wutai wasn’t nearly far enough. In retrospect, he should have known they’d be involved. This project has WRO written all over it. 

Barret throws him an ugly look. “Who invited Shinra’s dogs?” 

“Least I don’t bite the hand that feeds,” he barks back, jerking his chin at a bunch of supply crates plastered with company logos. 

“Wow, Barret,” drawls the girl. _Yuffie_ , his mind supplies. “You made it a whole” - she pretends to look at a watch - “three seconds without picking a fight.”

Barret scowls at her. “What do you expect after how he treated Re-.”

“We should get started,” Cloud cuts in, looking uncomfortable, grumpy, and sort of bored all at the same time. 

“Lead the fuckin’ way.” Shouldering past them, Reno stomps off toward the supply tent.

They’re Reeve’s friends. Of course he told them.

…

Their task is quite simple - haul a bunch of shit up Da-Chao Mountain, don’t break any of that shit, and do away with any monsters that get in the way. Due to ecological reasons that Reno didn’t bother reading about in the brief, they can’t use ATVs or chocobos, so it’s got to be done manually. 

That’s how he ends up helping Barret, Yuffie, and Cloud drag a sledge carrying approximately one million pounds of cleaning supplies up a mountain. Being the strongest of the bunch, Cloud and Barret pull on ropes from the front, while he and Yuffie flank them, looking out for critters and pushing from the back when the path gets steep. 

Well, Reno pushes.

“It’s like you don’t even miss him,” Yuffie says, walking backward in front of him so that he can appreciate the full effect of her disdain.

Reno curls his lip and throws his weight somewhat violently into the sledge. “Why don’t you get back to work, girlie?”

“Why don’t you-.”

“Yuffie!” Cloud calls in a strained voice over his shoulder. “That’s actually a really good idea.”

...

They stop to rest about halfway up, just above the cliff where Reno tried to kill Don Corneo. It’s a brisk, windy morning, but the physical effort involved in the task at hand causes them all to work up a sweat.

Out of who knows where, Barret procures a thermos of coffee, which he shares with Cloud while Yuffie wanders off to explore. Reno eyes the coffee sulkily. He’d kill for a cup, but he certainly won’t ask for one. Instead, he leans against the sledge and fiddles with his mag rod, clicking it on and off just to see the others tense. 

Feigning indifference to his baiting, Barret launches into a story about his daughter. Something about giving the shovel talk to some poor kid who likes her. “And I told her, don’t ever trust the cocky ones,” he says, fixing Reno with a venomous glare. “They’ll break your heart as soon as look at you.”

Reno busies himself digging through the pockets of his blazer. Where’d he put his cigarettes?

A shadow appears overhead. Looking up, he finds Yuffie leering at him from the top of the sledge. “Smoking’s bad for you,” she says, dangling the crumpled pack above him.

“Give me those!” He swipes at the cigarettes, only for her to dance nimbly out of his reach. No fucking way. She is _not_ faster than him.

“No need to smoke yourself into the grave,” Barret says, sipping sanctimoniously from his thermos. “Come find me if you got a death wish, Turk.”

Reno rolls his eyes, makes as if to turn away, and then lunges at Yuffie like a wildcat.

His intention is merely to reclaim his stolen property, but that doesn’t seem to be the conclusion the others jump to. With an angry shout, Barret leaps to intervene, catching Reno around the waist and tackling him to the ground. 

Okay, Yuffie _might_ be faster than him, but Barret? He must be having a real off day.

“Don’t touch her, you asshole!” 

“ _I’m_ the asshole?” Reno wheezes as 250 pounds of eco-terrorist crush him into the dirt. “Are you _kidding_ me _?_ ”

“I knew workin’ with Shinra was a mistake.” Barret continues, shaking him by the collar. “Yuffie? You alright?”

“I’m fine, but I, uh-.”

“Don’t treat her like a baby,” Reno snaps, wishing desperately that his mag rod weren’t pinned beneath his hip. “That menace can obviously-.”

“Shut up, you-.”

“Seriously, guys. I think Cloud needs-.”

“-think you can just attack my friends and-.”

“Attack your friends? She fuckin’ started it. Besides, I bet she-.”

“Guys?”

“-ain’t even old enough to smo-.”

“GUYS.”

“WHAT?” they shout at the same time.

“First of all, I am a legit adult, you dick. Second, Cloud could really use some help!”

It’s true. In their scuffle, Barret and Reno have managed to dislodge the brake holding the sledge in place, which is rather problematic given the angle of the slope beneath it. Cloud has managed to grab one of the tow ropes, but despite his valiant, mako-enhanced efforts, he appears to be struggling. 

“FUCK!”

  
Scrambling over each other, Barret and Reno leap for the sledge, but it’s too late. The rope in Cloud’s hand snaps, and it careens over the edge of the cliff below.

…

“So,” Cloud says, “you assholes have any bright ideas?”

They’re standing at the top of the cliff, wind whining in their ears as they gaze down at the sledge, which has wedged itself in the crook of an outcropping some 50 feet below.

“I can climb down there no problem,” Yuffie says, hopping nimbly from foot to foot. 

Barret, who is standing well away from the edge, crosses his arms. “No way in hell. It’s too windy, and _you’re_ too light.”

Cloud massages his temples. “He’s right. You’ll blow right off.”

“Who else then? We’ll need both of you to haul it up.”

“Ah- _hem_.” 

They all turn to Reno, who, while they’ve been squabbling, has secured a spare rope to a nearby boulder and is looping the other end around his waist.

“Fuck all of you,” he hisses before lowering himself over the ledge.

Holy shit. Windy is right.

Giving the rope a tug to make sure it’s secure, Reno hugs close to the rock face and makes his way down to where the equipment has fallen. The gusts tear mercilessly at his hair and clothes. It’s a damn good thing he’s not afraid of heights.

Once he reaches the outcropping, Reno unties the rope from his middle and uses it to secure the sledge. This takes some real creativity seeing as he doesn’t have enough room to stand, but Reno eventually manages and, with a savage, slightly manic pride, yells for the others to pull up.

Worried that this rope will snap like the last one did, he holds his breath until the cargo disappears safely over the ledge. Only then does he relax and grant himself a few seconds to catch his breath. Reno’s never been one to just stand around, though, so after a few seconds, he shakes the soreness out of his hands and begins to rescale the cliff. 

Climbing up proves to be a lot more harrowing than the descent, what with gravity working against him and how much faster his right arm tires out these days. 

Still, Reno doesn’t mind the height or the wind or even that there is no longer a rope protecting him from the howling chasm below. He feels better than he has in weeks, the danger honing his scattered thoughts into an efficient, focused calm and the blessedly simple certainty that if he makes a mistake, he’ll fall. 

It wouldn’t be so bad, all things considered. Reno’s seen people die in ways a whole lot worse.

As he approaches the top of the cliff, he notices three heads peering over to observe him. Then, when he’s almost there, a massive hand grabs Reno by the scruff of the neck and literally throws him onto the path.

Reno lies there for a moment - breath knocked out of him and muscles burning from exertion. Then he picks himself up and favors his companions with an obnoxious sneer.

“Fucking amateurs.”.

Cloud doesn’t reply, which isn’t much of a shocker, but when Barret also stares at him with a wooden, vaguely nauseous expression, Reno starts to feel a bit creeped out.

Yuffie finally breaks the silence by stomping over and shoving the pilfered cigarettes hard into Reno’s chest. “Why didn’t you wait for us to throw down the rope, you idiot?”

Reno shrugs and shakes a bent cigarette out of the pack. “The hell do you care?” he asks, lighting it and ambling over to the cliff. Leaning as far out as gravity permits, he thinks about how clear-headed he had felt clinging for dear life above that void.

“Hey. Reno.”

He turns to find Cloud fixing him with a grave expression. “Eh?”

“Step away from there.”

“Awww. Afraid I’m gonna jump?”

When Cloud doesn’t reply, he snorts and retreats from the cliff. “Why bother jumpin’ when I can come find you?” he says, shooting Barret an evil smirk. “Said so yourself.”

…

Reno finally gets back to New Midgar around midnight. In his absence, the cat has shredded an entire roll of paper towels and tipped the garbage over. Reno flips her off and checks her water. Then he turns on the kitchen sink and shoves his head beneath the cold spray to wash the sweat and dust out of his hair. He sucks down a few gulps while he’s at it, feeling slightly queasy when liquid pools cold in his stomach. 

He flops facedown on his sofa and finally allows himself to wonder what Reeve said about him to Cloud and the others. Nothing good, certainly. Not that Reno would deserve it if he had.

He’s just started to doze when, on the coffee table, his PHS rattles.

_Neysa:_

_omg thnx for the wro rec!_

_got an interview next week!_

Reeve really is the world’s best fucking guy.

...

  
  


The next day, Tseng calls Reno into his office. 

“What d’you need, chief?” he asks, tilting back in his chair and hoping the other can’t smell the booze on him. He spent much of the previous night trying to drink himself to sleep.

As usual, Tseng doesn’t beat around the bush. “Did you try to kill yourself yesterday?”

Reno almost tips over. “Not that I’m aware,” he says once he’s done flailing to regain his balance. “Why?”

“I received an interesting call from _Cloud Strife,_ ” Tseng says in the tight, irritated voice that comes out only when he’s extremely stressed. “He said your behavior in Wutai was erratic.”

“Erratic how?”

“Erratic as in you threatened to throw yourself off the mountain.”

Reno rolls his eyes. “I was just messin’ with ‘em.”

Weight resting heavily on his elbows, Tseng massages his temples. “Did you complete your psychological evaluation?” he asks.

“Sure, I did.” Kind of.

“And was it...helpful?”

“Was company policy, like you said.” 

“I shouldn’t have put it that way.”

“Listen,” Reno says, wishing Tseng would go back to acting cold and distant like usual, “I ain’t gonna lie and say it’s been an easy couple months with Rude gettin’ hurt and...all the rest of it, but we both seen worse, and you know it.”

Tseng shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have let you kill Thad.” 

“I handled it fine if you ain’t noticed.”

“We both know you’re perfectly capable,” Tseng replies. It's a small consolation, but he looks every bit as uncomfortable with this conversation as Reno. “However, you were the wrong person for the job. I should have had Elena stop you. At the very least, I should have taken more decisive action after the fact.” 

Reno bristles. “What the fuck are you sayin’?” 

Back in the day, taking such an aggressive tone with a superior would have gotten him beat bloody, but he’s too pissed off and confused to care.

Tseng doesn’t hit him. Instead, his shoulders slump. “I am apologizing for my lapse in judgment.”

Every response Reno can think of oozes out of his brain. When it becomes apparent that he’s at a loss for words, Tseng stands and moves to the cabinet where he keeps his liquor. He fixes two drinks, hands one off to Reno, and settles back in his chair. 

“Do you remember the night we celebrated my promotion?” he asks, taking a careful sip.

Pretty much the only thing Reno remembers about that night is his tongue up some Honey Bee dancer’s ass, and Gaia preserve him if that’s what Tseng’s referring to. “Err, what about it?”

“You told me that the Turks could be anything I wanted.”

Suddenly, Reno remembers sitting in a booth with his arm slung around Tseng’s shoulders. He had been maudlin drunk but also hopeful. At that point, he had also lost his shirt. “Memory’s a little foggy, chief.” 

“Well mine isn’t. I thought about what you said a great deal, and I decided that if Shinra is moving into a new era, Administrative Research must keep up.”

“Changes are in order,” he continues when Reno fails to respond. “The Turks may never step out of the shadows, but that doesn’t mean we can’t work within them more...ethically.”

“...eth...ically?” Reno says, sounding out the word like it’s the first time he’s ever heard it. “You goin’ soft on me?”

“The loss of Neysa highlighted the need. I won’t have Reeve _poaching_ my talent.”

Reno slurps his drink. “Well, I definitely don’t know nothin’ about that.”

“I bet.”

Wincing at the other’s dry tone, Reno sits up straighter in his chair. “Whatever changes you got in mind, you can count on me,” he says. “You know that.”

“Can I? The way you’ve been acting lately, I’m not so sure.”

Reno opens his mouth to deny it, but the words won’t come. Tseng’s right. He’s been no use to anyone. “I’ll be better,” he says, face hot with shame. “Whatever you want. Just say the word.”

Tseng finishes his drink. “I want you to take some time off.”

His first instinct is to argue, but in his whole life, the only thing Reno’s had to be proud of is the trust his comrades place in him. He’s not willing to jeopardize that. “How much time?”

“Two months.”

“Two _months?_ ” Reno sucks in a breath. “What am I supposed to do? Watch paint peel ‘til I feel better?”

“I’m not going to tell you how to manage your health, Reno. We both know you won’t listen.”

Well, yeah. His track record kind of speaks for itself. “I’ll work somethin’ out,” he says, silently wondering if he’ll die of boredom before the end of the second week. “Ain’t gonna let you down.”

Something softens in Tseng’s expression. “See that you don’t.”

…

Reno may not be the most self-reflective person, but even he knows that getting his shit together is going to be a tall order. The first step, he figures, is to strategize.

What he ends up with is a list of action items written in pencil on the back of a receipt.

  1. Sleep better.
  2. Quit smoking.
  3. Fix dishwasher.
  4. Drink less.
  5. Skincare.
  6. Don’t be needy.
  7. Don’t procrastinate.
  8. Be nicer to emergency room personnel.
  9. Replace toaster.
  10. Email therapist.



He should be able to manage that.

...

“Will you share with me why you came back?” Doctor Obasi asks, peering at him from behind the thick lenses of her glasses.

“Been feelin’ off lately. Chief told me to fix it.”

“Would you tell me more about what you mean by ‘off’?”

Reno itches his nose and coughs. “I dunno. Gastritis?”

“As a therapist, I’m not qualified to treat gastroenterological ailments.” 

He laughs nervously.

“Perhaps we should back up,” Doctor Obasi continues. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Name’s Reno,” he says, without inflection like he’s giving a report. “Just Reno. I was born in Midgar. I still live in Midgar. I’m Vice Director of Shinra’s Administrative Research division. Worked for the company since I was 18.” He tries to think of anything he missed. “And I have a cat.”

“Do you like your cat?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like your work?”

“Most days, sure.”

“And your coworkers?”  
  


“I like ‘em, too.” Reno swallows. He’s waiting for her to mention Thad. Of course, she’ll have been briefed with the cover-up lie like everyone else.

Instead, Doctor Obasi turns to adjust the window shade so the Sun doesn’t shine like a spotlight in his eyes. “For what it’s worth, they like you too,” she says. “I have received numerous queries on your behalf.”

“Nosy assholes.”

“They’re worried about you.”

Reno shrugs. “I’ll be fine. Prob’ly gotta sleep it off.”

“You’re going to sleep off gastritis?” 

“Ain’t there a rule against teasin’ your patients?”

“My sincerest apologies,” Doctor Obasi says, smiling faintly. “Speaking of sleep, about how many hours do you get per night?”

“Don’t need much,” Reno says. When all she does is raise an eyebrow, he relents. “Like three, maybe? I wake up easy.”

“What’s waking you up these days?”

Reno swallows. Shit. They’re about to get into it. “Weird dreams,” he forces out. 

“Would you like to tell me about them?”

Reno very much would not like to talk about all the sick shit that goes on in his head, but he figures he’s been putting it off long enough. He starts with the most recent one. “I dreamed that Cloud Strife microwaved my cat.”

“Cloud Strife? You mean the -.”

“Yeah. Him. I’d offer to get you an autograph, but he don’t like me much.”

“Right,” the doctor says, clearing her throat. “That sounds like quite the nightmare.”

“Was real vivid,” Reno agrees. “Think I might be one of them visual learners.”

He tells her about his other dreams, talking fast and flat and trying his best not to hear himself talk. Halfway through the one where he massacred everyone in his office, Doctor Obasi stops him.

“Let’s take a break,” she says. 

“It’s cool. I’m almost done.”

“Reno, I think you could use one.”

He follows her gaze to his hands, which are shaking so bad it’s a wonder he can’t hear his bones rattle. “Shit,” he says, pressing them flat against his thighs.

“Would you like some water?”

Reno shakes his head. He hadn’t noticed before, but he’s wound up so tight it feels like there’s a big spring inside him trying to burst through his chest. 

“Reno, can you hear me?”

What kind of question is that? He nods.

“Where are you now?”

“...office.”

“What color are the walls?”  
  


He knows what she’s doing. He learned that trick in field training. “The walls are yellow,” he replies, trying not to lose his temper. “The shades have flowers on ‘em. There are five picture frames on your desk and three houseplants on the table. Don’t gotta worry, doc. I’m good.”

“Would you like to continue.”

“Yeah. Sure. Fantastic,” he says, a little snottier than necessary. “Is this how therapy’s supposed to go? Because I don’t think it’s helpin’.”

Infuriatingly, the doctor appears unruffled. “The goal of therapy is always to help, but in order to do that I need to know why you’re here.”

“Told you. My boss thinks I need it.”

  
“But what do you think?”

“I think…” Reno deflates. “I think this shit is pointless. I’m real fucked up, I’ve always been fucked up, and that ain’t liable to change.”

“Would you like to know what I think?” 

“Bet you’re gonna tell me either way.”

Doctor Obasi holds up Reno’s ragged intake form, which he had shoved at her with carefully crafted disinterest at the beginning of their session. “When I read this, I don’t see someone who’s ‘fucked up.’ I see someone who’s been through a lot and has developed numerous strategies to protect himself from further pain. Strategies that were effective once but have outlived their usefulness. My role is to help you replace those strategies with ones that better serve you, but I can’t do that without your cooperation.”

Reno sighs. “Believe it or not, this _is_ me cooperating...and to answer your question, I guess I want what you just said. To come up with ways of dealin’ with myself that don’t drag other people down.”

For the first time, the doctor smiles. “There, see? You're off to a good start.”

…

Despite Tseng not giving him other options, Reno feels kind of bad about taking so much time off work.

“It’s fine,” Elena says dismissively when Reno brings this up during their monthly happy hour. “We’re used to it from all the times you’ve gotten yourself hospitalized by being stupid.”

Reno slurps pensively at his lime green cocktail. Rude and Tseng never join when they come to this bar because they don’t serve drinks that aren’t fluorescent. “You ever done it?” he says, glancing around to make sure no one else is within earshot. “The whole therapy thing?”

“You don’t have to whisper, Reno. Therapy’s not illegal. And yes. Literally everyone in the office has ‘done it’ except for you.”

Reno blinks. “I didn’t know that.”

“I tried to tell you once.” Elena plucks the decorative umbrella out of his drink and uses it to pick her teeth. “You got this look on your face like you were constipated and started stress cleaning my apartment.”

“Oh. My bad.”

“I mean, it _did_ get you to scrub the charred macaroni off my stove.” Finishing her drink, she signals to a server in khaki shorts for another round. “Don’t worry about work stuff, okay? Just sort yourself out.”

…

The following Wednesday finds Reno once again in Doctor Obasi’s office. Last time, he wore his work uniform, but he decided to go casual today. Maybe his favorite weekend jeans will help him open up. 

If she notices the difference, Doctor Obasi doesn’t mention it. “How are you?” she asks.

“Doin’ okay,” he says after thinking hard for about a minute.

“Any more nightmares?”

“Not bad ones.” He swallows. For the first time in his life, Reno can’t think of a thing to say. “And, uh, I been tryin’ to eat better. Told myself I would cook more now that I’m takin’ time off, but that’s a work in progress.”

She smiles. “I’m not much of a chef, myself.”

With the doctor’s encouragement, Reno manages to stumble through a bit more small talk until she asks him a question that leaves him stumped.

“Are you enjoying your break from work?”

“I...yeah?”

“Forgive me, but you don’t sound convinced.”

“I don’t know how to put it,” Reno says, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. “It’s been okay, but I ain’t spent so much time on my own before.”

“Do you dislike being alone?”

“Uh-huh. Used to drive Rude crazy.”

“Rude is your partner, right? It must have upset you greatly when he was injured.” Doctor Obasi’s voice has taken on a careful edge that Reno can pick out no matter how well she hides it. “Would you like to talk about the night it happened?”

“The incident with Thad Strait, you mean?”

Doctor Obasi inclines her head. 

“Right,” Reno says, exhaling a big puff of air. “You been briefed on the details?”

“I was told the official story, yes.”

Gang retaliation. One Turk injured. Another killed. Real tragedy. Nothing underhanded, though.

Reno nods. “And that’s what you’ll get from me, too. Nothin’ personal.”

“Naturally. To the extent allowed, why don’t you tell me about it?”

Reno prepares to launch into a dispassionate rehash of the “official” cause of Thad’s death but thinks better of it. He’s pretty sure that’s not what she wants to know.

“It ain’t a secret,” he finally says, “that us Turks are involved in some shady shit. Things’ve been better since Meteor, but we’re still...anyhow, I been at this job a long time, and I seen plenty of us die. Used to be a joke about it.”

“A joke?”

“How many Turks does it take to drain a retirement account?”

“How many?”

“I’ll let you know when I meet a Turk what could retire.”

Doctor Obasi remains impassive. 

“Point is,” he says, feeling a bit awkward, “I always felt bad when it happened, but mostly I was glad it wasn’t me.”

“Was this time different?”

Reno’s gut reaction is to lie, but he forces himself to nod. “Trained that Strait kid personally, so I guess it hit a little harder, but I...shit. Plenty of rookies I trained got killed before. Don’t know why I’m losin’ my mind all of a sudden.”

“Do you feel responsible for his death?”

Reno starts laughing. He can’t help it.

When he meets the doctor’s eyes and sees the sheen of unease that has fallen over them, he forces himself to stop. “Sorry,” he says, trying his best to school his expression. “Us Turks are a little screwy.”

To her credit, she recovers quickly. “Are you able to answer my question?”

“Guess I feel guilty.”

“Do you experience guilt often?”

Picking at a hole in his jeans, Reno shrugs. “Used to be I didn’t feel much of anything about the things that went on at work.”

“What changed?”

“Ain’t you supposed to tell me that?”

“I’m a therapist, Reno. Not a psychic.”

Reno would like nothing better than to deflect her question, but that isn’t why he’s here. “The world’s changin’,” he says after thinking on it. “The Turks are changin’, too, and I got no quarrel with that. For a while I even let myself forget what I...but what happened to that recruit made it real clear. There's no comin’ back from the things I did, and I shouldn’t aspire to more than I deserve.”

“And what do you think you deserve?”

Reno keeps his mouth shut.

“Let me rephrase that,” Doctor Obasi says. “What do you wish that you deserved?”

“A hot tub, maybe?”

“Reno.”

“Okay, okay. Um...lotsa stuff. All the money I got from bein’ a Turk. My partner and...I mean, I _guess_ the rest of ‘em. My coworkers, I mean. Wish I deserved havin’ the safe place I got to stay in, too, and the health benefits I get through work and…and, uh...”

“And your cat?”

“Fuck no. That bitch and I deserve each other.”

“What then?”

Reno gnaws his lip. “I wish I deserved to, uh, have a normal life, you know? House. Yard. Couple of brats, even.”

“What about a partner?” 

Reno averts his gaze and nods. “There was someone,” he says, “but I called things off.”

“You sound regretful.”

“Nah. It was for the best. Wanted to spare him all my bullshit.” 

For a moment Doctor Obasi observes him. They’re almost out of time, so Reno figures maybe she’s just trying to run out the clock, but just as he’s thinking he should get up and grab his coat, she speaks.

“Were you sparing him or just punishing yourself?”

…

Reno thinks about what the doctor said and decides she’s wrong. No matter how he slices it, Reeve is better off without him.

With this cheery musing to sustain him, he spends the rest of his week dealing with the other items on his list. Okay, so all he does is buy the toaster.

He’s just preparing to tackle “Fix dishwasher” one morning when Rufus pays him a visit.

At first, Reno doesn’t quite believe his eyes. It’s early. Okay, it’s 10 a.m., but when he glances at the security monitor next to his door and sees Rufus Shinra carrying a large, ornately wrapped package in one hand and Darkstar’s leash in the other, Reno wonders if he might be going a little loopy.

Buzzing him in, he begins frantically tidying his apartment.

When Rufus knocks, he opens the door with a confused smile. “Heya, boss. To what do I owe the - oof.”

Darkstar has been fond of Reno ever since a harrowing incident involving a porcupine and the destruction of his best tweezers, so Reno finds himself pinned to the floor with an ugly, genetically enhanced guard dog slobbering all over him.

“I was in the neighborhood,” Rufus says, wiping his feet on the doormat and glancing around Reno’s apartment with an unreadable expression.

“Nice of you...awwww, who’s a good boy...to stop by.”

Rufus sniffs and places the package he’s carrying on Reno’s coffee table. “Yes, well.” He spies Fleabag, who is glaring at them from the top of the fridge. “I didn’t know you had a cat.” 

“Shit.” Reno says, shoves Darkstar and his happily wiggling tentacle aside so he can sit up. “Forgot you were allergic.”

“I’m not allergic. Sniffing again, Rufus sweeps across the room to gaze dramatically out the window.

“Ain’t seen Darkstar in a while,” Reno says, giving the dog another scratch behind the ears before staggering to his feet. “You should bring him round the office.”

“The Shinra Employee Wellness Team is still discussing the pros and cons of a pet-friendly workplace.”

This coming from the guy who once declared that he would “rule through fear.”

“Anyway,” his boss says, waving a disinterested hand at the package on the table. “Have that, if you like. I’ve no use for it.”

It is so obviously a gift basket that Rufus went out of his way to purchase that Reno has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “Guess I can take it off your hands.” 

Rufus shrugs and tries to disguise a sneeze. “On an _unrelated_ note, Tseng mentioned that you have been indisposed.”

“Yeah. Stomach problems.”

“He told me you might say that.” For a moment, Rufus stares at him hard, so hard that Reno's stomach actually does start to hurt “You would do well to avoid spicy food, then,” he says at last. 

It’s a wonder anything at Shinra gets done, what with how emotionally constipated they all are.

…

The gift basket Rufus just happened to have on him during his visit is full of fancy cheeses, candies, and things like that. It also contains a gift certificate for a coffee chain Reno knows Doctor Obasi likes.

“Thank you,” the doctor says, looking somewhat surprised as he shoves a blended, sugary monstrosity into her hands. “How did you know my drink order?”

He nods at her trash can. “Saw an empty in there the other day. You should get one of them reusable mugs.”

By now they’re up to their fifth session, and Reno’s starting to feel less like he wants to flee into the air ducts whenever she asks a question. This sentiment is tested somewhat when she starts out with a weird one. 

“Tell me something you like about yourself.”

“Well, I-.”

“ _Unrelated_ to physical appearance.”

Reno thinks about it. “Ain’t never raped no one.”

“Why is that important to you?”

“I dunno.” He wishes he’d picked something different. “I guess it just ain’t how I get my rocks off.”

“Rape is rarely about sexual gratification.”

Reno nods. He actually already knew that. “Where I grew up that sorta thing happened all the time,” he blurts out. “Happened enough that it didn’t bear mentionin’.”

“Did that bother you?”

The correct answer is obviously “yes”, but Reno shakes his head. “Was easier not to talk about it. Mostly, I pretended it didn’t happen.”

“Does that relate at all to some of the answers selected on your intake evaluation?”

She was bound to ask eventually.

Reno tries to stonewall her, but as usual Doctor Obasi is able to wait him out. “Didn’t have it bad as some,” he finally manages. “I know it’s almost impossible to believe, but I wasn’t always this handsome.” He makes a show out of flicking his bangs back and feels relieved when a smile flickers across the other’s face.

“You’re funny,” she says. ““Has it ever occurred to you that you use humor to deflect uncomfortable conversation topics?”

“...apparently that don’t work with you.” 

The doctor’s tone grows even graver. “We don’t have to discuss it if it’s too difficult.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay, it’s too difficult.” Reno takes a nervous sip of his drink. The sugar makes his teeth ache. “Ask me somethin’ different.”

After a beat of silence, the doctor nods. “You told me in a previous session that you didn’t have parents growing up. Was that hard for you?”

“I guess so. Got good at thievin’.”

“You stole to survive?”

He rubs at the back of his neck. “I mean, I worked _sometimes_.”

“What kind of work?”

“Lotsa stuff. Had to take jobs where you could get ‘em in the slums. Gig economy, and all.” Reno fidgets. He doesn’t much like talking about this shit, either. “To be honest, it was mostly drug stuff. Runnin’ for the local gangs. I sold for ‘em, too, sometimes.”

“I see.”

Reno’s gaze slides down and away. “And, um, I wasn’t hookin’ on street corners, or whatever, but there was also that.”

Doctor Obasi says nothing. He can’t imagine what she’s thinking.

“Lotta times I was just doin’ it to rob ‘em,” Reno continues, as if that somehow makes it better. “Would pick up some drunk too tanked to notice and...but I stopped doin’ that after I got in trouble one time, so I...I dunno. Is it real fucked up that I didn’t always hate it?”

“There’s no right or wrong way to feel,” Doctor Obasi says. “Acknowledging emotions is important, even if those emotions are uncomfortable.”

“I think it was like...like that thing we talked about last time.”

“Intimacy?”

He wrinkles his nose and nods. “Intimacy, yeah. Like, there was this one sorta posh guy who used to have a restaurant plateside. Least, that’s what he said to me. We’d go back to his place, and he’d make all these fancy desserts and...and I know it’s wrong, but no one had ever cooked for me before, so I...fuck. I should quit talkin’ about it that way. I know it’s gross.” 

“If it’s too much, we can stop, but I’d like to hear what you have to say.”

Exhaling raggedly, Reno runs a hand through his hair. He doesn’t know where all these words are coming from. The information is in his personnel file, obviously, but the only person he’s actually told is Rude. “I couldn’t help likin’ it with some of the nicer ones,” he continues. “Was just about the only time people touched me nice.”

When Doctor Obasi doesn’t say anything to that, he looks up and is surprised to find her blinking hard behind her glasses.

This is why he doesn’t talk about his feelings.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” she says after clearing her throat. “Sex work is not inherently immoral. Besides, given the timeframe, I assume you were underage. In Midgar, that’s considered-.”

“Uh-huh. I fuckin’ _know_. Said I don’t wanna talk about that.” Reno winces internally at his tone. He tries to keep his temper around the doctor because he doesn’t want to scare her. She doesn’t look scared though. She...she looks…

“May I touch you?” she asks. “If it would help, I’d like to hold your hand.”

“Uhhh…”

“You can say ‘no’.”

What exactly holding hands will help Reno doesn’t know, but he shrugs and lays his hand palm up on his knee. The doctor’s touch is cool and dry as she slots her darker hand on top of his, her fingers so fragile that he could probably break them with his grip.

“It strikes me in our conversations ,” she says, squeezing gently, “that you have trouble distinguishing between the bad things you’ve done and the bad things that were done to you. You feel immensely guilty, and you punish yourself because of that. But the problem with punishment alone is that it’s always looking back. You cannot erase the hurt you’ve caused. You cannot erase the hurt others have caused you. But you can choose how to move forward. You can be better, and you can demand that others treat you better, too.”

Reno stares at their clasped hands and thinks back to a night spent in a cold, shithole motel in the desert. “Believe it or not, you ain’t the first person to tell me that.”

“Was it another therapist?”

“Hardly.”

Shaking her head, the doctor laughs.

...

The anniversary of the Plate Drop always hits hard. Elena tries to be there for them in her gruff, awkward, well-meaning way, but the weight remains. It’s the one time a year when Reno and Rude avoid each other. When neither of them can look at Tseng. 

The others, at least, have work to distract them, but Reno’s got a week to go before he’s scheduled to return to the office. 

He can’t bear to be alone in his apartment, so he gets in his car and drives north to the coast. Once there, Reno wanders down a pebble beach flanked by bluffs. It’s a bleak winter day - gray sky, gray clouds, gray feelings all around. After strolling aimlessly for a while, he perches on the sun-bleached corpse of a tree and shivers. 

He should have worn a hat. Or stayed home. What the fuck is he even doing here?

Reno knows exactly what. He had to get out of New Midgar, away from the ashes of the city that raised him. The city he helped destroy. 

Over the roar of the surf, Reno’s PHS starts ringing. He fishes it out, glances at the caller ID, and almost drops it. 

_Incoming Call: Reeve Tuesti_

As with every call received since they broke up, he lets it go to voicemail. But when Reeve immediately dials him again, Reno decides he’s been a coward long enough. Maybe it’s the three months that have passed since their breakup. Maybe it’s all the therapy or the wistful melancholy of his ocean view. Whatever it is, Reno answers.

“Hello?”

_“Reno?”_

He’s not sure he can do this. 

“Uh, that’s me.”

The connection crackles for a moment as Reeve heaves a sigh of relief into the receiver. _“Are you alright?”_

“...should I not be?”

_“I...I don’t know. I’m at a memorial service at Seventh Heaven, and Barret told me...he and Yuffie both said…”_

Now it’s Reno’s turn to sigh. Is he ever going to live that Da-Chao bullshit down? “Whatever it is, they imagined it.”

_“Oh. Um, okay.”_

Typical Reeve. He is literally at an event honoring people that Reno murdered, and he still calls to check on him. 

_“I haven’t seen you in the office lately,”_ Reeve continues. In the background, Reno can hear voices and the clink of glasses rising in a toast. _“Tseng told me you’ve been unwell.”_

First Rufus, and now Reeve? Since when is Tseng such a blabbermouth?

“I’m okay,” Reno says. “Just had some sick days to burn through before they expire.”

_“But Shinra sick days roll over annually.”_

In front of him, a crab scuddles sideways down the beach. “Anyone ever tell you you worry too much?”

_“You used to. All the time.”_

“...guess I did, huh? Ain’t my fault you’re soft.”

_“I am not!”_

“Remember that documentary about animal friendships?” 

_“You thought it was sad, too!”_

“Was just tryin’ to make you feel better.” Struck by a pang of fondness, Reno can’t help what he says next. “So, um, how you been?”

_“...I’ve been okay. Busy like usual.”_

Reno has about a million follow-up questions - Is Reeve sleeping good? How’re his ma and sister? Is he dating someone new? - but he no longer has the right to ask any of them. “Heard you reached out to Neysa,” he says instead. “Thanks.”

_“Neysa! Of course! She’s been a wonderful addition to our team. If anything, I should be thanking you.”_

“You don’t gotta thank me for nothin’, Reeve.” 

The words hit heavier than intended, and in the silence that follows, Reno looks up and notices that it’s begun to snow. 

_“Hey,”_ Reeve finally says, _“It’s been so long since I saw you and...I mean, it’s totally up to you, but would you like to come over sometime for dinner?”_

...

Before he heads to Reeve’s house, Reno touches up his roots and styles his hair. He washes his face and uses the terrifyingly expensive moisturizer he bought on Rufus’ recommendation. He even tries to dress respectable - a white dress shirt, untucked but mostly buttoned. 

He’s under no delusion that him and Reeve will get back together, but one can dream, right?

It’s early March, and a cold, pre-spring drizzle ruins Reno’s careful grooming in seconds. Cursing street parking and the fact that Elena lost his umbrella, he runs to his car. By the time he reaches Reeve’s neighborhood - a sleepy, forested development just south of Edge - the drizzle has progressed to sleet.

Reeve has the door open before he has a chance to knock. “Come inside!” he exclaims when he sees Reno’s bedraggled appearance.

While Reeve secures the door behind him, Reno kicks off his wet shoes and entertains the thought of doing the same with his socks. That seems too personal somehow, so instead he shifts from foot to foot, trying as discreetly as possible to wipe them off on the carpet. “Thanks for havin’ me,” he says. “I, uh, brought this.”

It’s a nice bottle of scotch...courtesy yet again of Rufus’ gift basket.

Reeve takes the whiskey and Reno’s coat and instructs him to dry off in the washroom. On the way, Reno almost trips over Frank, who runs over to rub affectionately against his shins. 

“Miss me, buddy?”

“He has,” Reeve says from the kitchen doorway. 

Reeve is still standing there, lost in thought, when Reno emerges. When he sees Reno looking, he comes alive with a start. “Do you...can I get you something to drink?”

Reno swallows. “Sure.”

Reeve fixes their drinks, and they stand in the kitchen together.

“So what’s new these-?”

“How’re you do-?”

Reeve laughs nervously. “You first.”

“Uh, how’s...work?”

“It’s kept me on the road a lot,” Reeve says, moving to the oven to check whatever it is he’s cooking, “but I managed to take time off to spend Yule with my family.”

“That’s good. Bet your ma was happy.”

“...she was.” Closing the oven door, Reeve pauses. “She asked about you,” he says, still facing away.

Reno takes a big swig of his drink. “Oh.” He waits for him to continue, but Reeve just grabs some plates and brushes past him to set the table.

…

Dinner is a disaster. Every conversation ends in a dead end, and pretty soon all Reno can hear is them chewing and the squeal of cutlery on plates.

“I didn’t make dessert,” Reeve admits, shamefaced, when they’ve finished. 

“I’m stuffed, anyway.”

“You look like you’ve lost weight.”

He’s actually gained a little since he quit smoking. Reno waits for Reeve to continue nagging him like he used to, but all he does is stare uncomfortably at his fork. 

He should go. Dinner was obviously a mistake.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Reeve says before Reno can make his excuses. “There’s this new comedy I thought you might like.”

So much for bowing out early. 

“Sure.”

While Reeve fiddles with the TV in the living room, Reno fixes them another round of drinks. In the process, he almost trips over Frank again. 

At least someone’s happy to see him.

Bending down, he scratches the old cat under the chin. Its markings have always seemed familiar, and he realizes suddenly that it’s because they look just like Cait Sith’s. 

“Reno? You ready?”

He looks up to find Reeve watching him from the kitchen doorway. He’s usually pretty easy to read, but right now Reno can’t make heads or tails of the closed, tight expression that he’s wearing. “Yeah,” he says, straightening and swiping half-heartedly at the cat hair on his thighs. “Your attention whore cat wa -.”

His voice fades as Reeve approaches, hesitates, and then tentatively lays a hand on Reno’s waist. “That offer you made in my office,” he says, eyes downcast and ashamed. “Does it still stand?”

Oh. 

Reno swallows as shock and desire war for real estate in his head. “You sure?” he asks, horrified when his voice pitches upward and almost cracks.

“I-I...yes.”

Offering what he hopes is a sexy - as opposed to nervous - smirk, Reno leans into him. “Come at me, then.”

And just like that, Reeve is kissing him. There’s more tongue and teeth than Reno’s ever got from him. More urgency, too, like Reeve’s afraid Reno might slip away if he hesitates. 

Reno welcomes it, moaning as Reeve presses him back against the counter and starts unbuttoning his collar.

“Reeve,” he gasps when they part for air. “Reeve, I... _oh_.” His words melt away as hands slide into the front of his open shirt.

Everything’s happening so fast, but just like in a fight Reno’s body knows instinctively what to do. He arches his back and kisses back with equal enthusiasm, even makes those embarrassingly soft noises he knows the other likes. For how many months has Reno ached for this? The chance to show Reeve all the things his words can’t. 

When they get to the bedroom, Reno helps Reeve out of his trousers and guides him to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Let me,” he says in response to the other’s questioning glance as he sinks to his knees in front of him. “Gotta get my mouth on you.”

Reeve’s cock is just as he remembers - long and thick, jutting out of a dark thatch of pubic hair at a lewd angle that makes his stomach drop. He’s always so clean down there, too. A fucking gentleman all around.

When Reno starts going down on him, Reeve’s head falls back, and he lets out a strangled cry. Whatever his faults, Reno has a good mouth on him, and he puts it to use now by endeavoring to give the best apology blowjob of his life. He sets a solid rhythm, working his way down until the head of Reeve’s cock breaches his gag reflex and slides smoothly down his throat. 

Reeve curses in surprise and jerks his hips. Humming, Reno picks up the pace. He keeps waiting for Reeve to stroke his hair like he used to, but his hands are bunched up in the sheets.

A few more tricks with his tongue has Reeve doubling over and gripping Reno’s shoulder for support. “H-how do you…?” Whatever he’s about to say is lost in a tangle of unintelligible syllables when Reno guides his other hand to the soft part of his throat so he can feel his cock moving back and forth as Reno swallows him. 

Pressing his thumb into the soft juncture at the underside of his chin, Reeve groans helplessly. “...Reno,” he says in a shaky, helpless voice that makes him burn. “Reno, I…” 

  
Precum smears bitter and bright across his tongue and the roof of his mouth. It reminds Reno of his own need untouched between his legs and makes him wonder if Reeve would fuck him maybe. Reno can be fussy about taking it up the ass, but Reeve would make it good for him. Reeve makes everything so fucking good.

Just as he’s about to offer, the other lets out a startled cry. Reeve’s orgasm comes at an awkward moment, and the result shoots all over Reno’s face. 

Fuck. Holy fuck. How is it that Reno feels emotional about getting jizzed on?

“Oh my god,” Reeve says once he’s collected himself enough to realize the mess he’s made. “Did it get in your eye?”

It did actually, but Reno’s too busy whipping his cock out to deal with it. Collapsing forward, he presses the side of his face into Reeve’s inner thigh and frantically starts jerking himself off.

“...a-ahhng…” he slurs as Reeve takes hold of his chin and slides his thumb between Reno’s cum-slick lips. Reno moans loudly and starts to drool a little. He must look like a real slut with his face blotchy and nose dripping from having Reeve’s dick pressed against his sinuses, but Reeve is looking at him how he used to. Like Reno’s something special.

Squeezing his eyes shut to escape that impossibly soft look, Reno tugs harder at his cock. He listens to the lewd, slick noises of skin on skin, to his own cries leaking out desperate and raw around Reeve’s fingers.

“Look at you,” Reeve murmurs, voice hoarse as he presses his thumb flat against Reno’s tongue. “God, you’re pretty. I...I’ve really missed-.”

Reno comes with a muffled shout, accidentally biting down on Reeve’s knuckle as his body jerks and then sags forward.  
  


“Fuck,” he hears Reeve say as he presses his forehead into his spit slick crotch. In the wake of his orgasm, Reno’s so wound up that hearing Reeve curse like that makes his body shudder. Reeve wipes his spit-covered fingers on the bedspread and places his hand comfortingly on the back of Reno’s head to soothe him.

“I came on your carpet,” Reno says when he’s come down enough to regain control of his breathing. “You want me to clean it up?”

Almost immediately, he wishes he hadn’t said anything because when he does Reeve’s body stiffens. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Reeve says in a weird, clipped tone as he pulls away from Reno and tucks himself back into his pants. He glances at Reno’s face and blanches. “Let me get you something to clean up with.” Before Reno can reply, he’s on his feet and disappearing into the hall.

Alone in Reeve’s bedroom, Reno swallows down the taste of stale cock and scrapes himself off the floor to sit on the bed. Afforded a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the armoire, he grimaces. No wonder Reeve ran out. 

He does his best to straighten out his hair and clothes, trying to ignore the clammy tackiness of cum drying in his underwear.

When Reeve returns, he hands him a warm, damp towel and busies himself scrubbing Reno’s mess out of the carpet. The sight makes Reno embarrassed in the same squirming, unsexy way as his reflection.

When Reno is done pulling himself together, he sets the washcloth aside and lingers. He knows it’s not his place to ask, but, well, if Reeve wanted…

Reeve glances at him hesitantly for a moment and then lets his shoulders slump. “Let me get your coat.”

Right. Yeah. Of course.

Reno follows him out of the bedroom and into the foyer, where he puts on his soggy boots and accepts his jacket with a sheepish “thanks.” He keeps waiting for Reeve to say literally anything, but he just gazes at Reno’s feet like he’d rather be somewhere else.

Reno forces himself to smile. “That was fun, yo. You ever wanna...do it again…” 

His words die off as the other shakes his head. “We shouldn’t,” Reeve says. “It was a mistake.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s cool, too.” Dazed, Reno turns toward the door.

“Drive safe.”

Once the door is shut behind him, Reno stands on the porch and gazes dumbly at the rain. It’s still coming down hard, rattling loud off the eaves and the bare branches of the surrounding trees. His eyes drift to his car where it rests sleek and dark beneath the illumination of a solitary streetlight. The sudden tightness in Reno’s chest catches him off guard. 

He lurches forward from under the awning and is drenched in seconds. When he gets to his car, he realizes he can’t find his keys. He must have locked them in it by mistake. Or maybe they’re somewhere in Reeve’s house. It’s okay. No problem. He taped a spare to the undercarriage. 

Squatting down, Reno fumbles for the key. He’s shaking so badly from the cold that he has trouble picking off the duct tape. So fucking stupid. He should have worn a better coat. 

Once he’s got the key, Reno stumbles to his feet. His balance is off for some reason, and his chest still hurts. 

He struggles to insert the key into the lock. It’s his hands again. They won’t stop trembling. 

The shaking is so bad that he accidentally gouges the paint on the car door. The unpleasant scraping sound makes Reno curse and drop the key. He tries to pick it up, but his body won’t cooperate. The tension in his chest spreads to his throat.

Slumping against the car, Reno claws at his collar and gasps. He tries to remember the breathing exercises he learned for how not to panic in tight spaces. What the fuck is happening? Poison? A heart attack? He thinks he might be dying.

“Reno!”

He hears footsteps, sees out of the corner of his eye Reeve trotting toward him with an umbrella.

“What was I thinking?” Reeve exclaims. “I can’t believe I let you go out in this weather without a...Reno? Reno, what’s wrong?”

The umbrella goes pinwheeling off into the darkness as Reeve drops it and reaches for him.

Reno flinches away, lifting his arms in front of his face as though he’s fending off an attack. “Don’t,” he hears himself croak, which is absurd because pretty much all he ever thinks about is how much he wants Reeve to touch him. 

Reeve holds his hands aloft like Reno has him at gunpoint. “Reno, listen. Will you come back inside?”

…

Somehow, they manage to reach Reeve’s living room, where Reno collapses wheezing on the couch. Bracing his elbows on his knees, he lets his head hang and then jerks it up again when a large towel settles on his shoulders.

“Shit! Sorry!” Settling next to him on the couch, Reeve wrings his hands for a few seconds and then turns back to Reno. “Breathe in while I count to five, okay?”

Reno shudders. “...I...I can’t.”

“Try. One, two…”

Closing his eyes, Reno gives himself over to Reeve’s warm, steady baritone. After a few false starts, he manages and keeps it up until the tightness in his chest begins to lift. 

“That’s it,” he hears Reeve say. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Eventually, Reno feels well enough to both talk and feel extremely embarrassed. “Thanks,” he says, lifting his head a bit and feeling his anxiety ramp up again when he sees the wet stain he’s left on the suede upholstery. “Mighta been somethin’ I ate. Err, nothin’ _you_ cooked, obviously. I ju -.”

“Can I touch you now?”

“...y-yeah?”

Shifting closer to him on the now rain-soaked sofa, Reeve starts to rub Reno’s back. He moves his hand in slow circles until the tension eases from his shoulders and then moves up to stroke his soggy hair. “Does that happen a lot?” he asks, once he’s certain that Reno’s calmed down enough.

“Sometimes. It might be asthma.”

For a moment, Reeve looks like he wants to roll his eyes. “Do you know what brought it on?”

He shakes his head. “I was leavin’ like you wanted an’ then…” He makes a spinning motion with his index finger next to his ear.

The hand in his hair pauses. “You wanted to stay?” When Reno’s only response is to duck his head, Reeve sighs. “Why can’t you ever just tell me how you feel?”

“You said it was a mistake.”

“...oh, Reno. I didn’t mean -.”

“Yes, you did. I’m not blamin’you, Reeve. We both know this was my fault.”

“Reno, why did you...after all this time, I still don’t understand.”

Reno chuckles miserably. “Thought I was doin’ you a favor, but I...I think I mighta been a bit mixed up. See, I didn’t wanna stop seein’ you. I like you so much. It’s just...” He trails off. He can’t start talking about Thad right now. If he tries, he’ll lose his shit.

“We can discuss that later,” Reeve says hastily like he’s just read his thoughts. “You must be freezing. Let me run you a bath and see if I can find some -.”

“Wait!” Reno catches his fingers in the damp cashmere of the other’s sweater. “Please. Just...forget what I said back then, yeah? I’ll do whatever you want. I mean, I been workin’ on things, an’ I promise I won’t fuck up again, so...so think about it.”

“Think about what?”

“About if you wanna take me back.”

When Reeve doesn’t say anything to this, Reno backpedals furiously. “Shit. Sorry. I’m not tryin’ to guilt you by showin’ up like a fuckin’ train wreck. I’ll go. Lemme just -.”

His words die into a strangled moan as Reeve pulls him into a hug. His embrace is solid and unassuming - achingly familiar, if a little damp. Not able to do anything else, Reno melts into it, hard edges softening as he clings desperately to Reeve’s broad shoulders.

Just like the first time months ago, their faces turn to each other at the right moment. This time, though, it’s Reeve who takes the lead by pulling Reno into a careful kiss. 

When they part, Reeve is smiling and Reno feels like he might pass out. “You sure?” he asks hoarsely. “Can think about it if you want.”

“I’m sure.” Reeve presses their foreheads together. “But Reno, it...it has to be different this time. You need to tell me things.”

Reno coughs away the catch in his throat. Scared and determined, he nods.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh! Finally. This chapter was hard to write, but I hope you enjoyed it. It's still too dialogue-heavy I think, but I have to say I really enjoyed writing it. I don't think I've gotten so emotional writing a story before....
> 
> ANYWAY, I know this story was pretty grim, but the sequels will be a whole lot fluffier. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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